


where the brave may live forever

by breezered



Series: TLAU: The Last Alternate Universe [4]
Category: The Last of Us (Video Games)
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, F/F, Viking AU, again with the fast and loose history, for history purposes, inspired by assassins creed valhalla (the vibe), let's go vikingr, slight alterations to names
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-24
Updated: 2021-01-25
Packaged: 2021-03-09 23:15:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 28,840
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27693998
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/breezered/pseuds/breezered
Summary: Fear not death, for the hour of your doom is set, and none may escape it.- Volunga Saga, C.5
Relationships: Dina/Ellie (The Last of Us)
Series: TLAU: The Last Alternate Universe [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1917013
Comments: 49
Kudos: 122





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Names changed:  
> Ellie - Elli  
> Tommy - Thorsteinn  
> Joel - Jósteinn
> 
> Some terms:  
> Vikingr - a raid, to go raiding  
> Skål - cheers  
> Skald - poet, singer, entertainer  
> dóttir - suffix meaning "daughter" eg, Jósteinnsdóttir = daughter of Jósteinn  
> Jarl - earl, king, leader

_Winter_

Wind whistled through the mountains, carrying flakes of snow and the scent of the sea. Perched at the edge of a cliff, Elli Jósteinnsdóttir stared out at the village below her. The pillars of smoke that rose from gaps in the roofs were swept up in the breeze. She took a deep breath. The air filled her lungs and brought with it a sense a calm, eyes fluttering shut as the feeling washed over her.

“Elli!” Astrid’s voice cut through the peace and quiet. Looking over her shoulder, Elli’s gaze landed on the other woman, wrapped in her bearskin cloak, blonde hair whipping in the wind. “Get off your arse and come help me herd these fucking sheep!”

“Coming!” With a final look at the vista below, Elli stood and tugged her own cloak around her shoulders. The wool, heavy and dusted with snow, kept the sharpest of the wind’s bites at bay. Astrid watched her clamber down the slope, leaning heavily on her staff. The older woman had sustained a grievous battle wound to her leg five winters ago. The Jarl had given her the chance to serve the village, and so a glorious destiny in agriculture was written into Astrid’s life.

Elli secretly hoped that if she ever got the chance to be so wounded, Odin would come and claim her before dooming her to a life of farming.

“You are too easily lost in your thoughts,” Astrid commented while Elli brushed snow from the back of her cloak.

“And you have no thoughts worth losing yourself in.” Her grin grew wolfish and Astrid rolled her eyes. “Come,” Elli patted Astrid’s shoulder as she walked past her, “we have sheep to bring home.”

They hiked down the side of the mountain, Elli many lengths ahead of Astrid. Her boots crunched ice and snow beneath them as her eyes scanned the slopes for signs of the sheep. It was important to bring them in before winter could sink its frozen teeth into the land, and Elli had volunteered quickly, eager to escape the village if only for a day.

“There!” Astrid lifted her staff and pointed to the valley below, “the woolly devils have hunkered down in the valley.” She grunted and knocked her staff across the back of Elli’s knees. “You’ll have to get them. I’m afraid my leg won’t carry me out of the valley once I descend.”

Elli groaned and pulled the hood of her cloak over her head. “Odin does not look favourably on the lazy.” Waved away by Astrid’s hand, she began the descent into the valley. Brush and stone lined the hillside, handy footholds as her boots scrabble against the earth.

She reached the stream that divides the valley, jumping across, the hem of her cloak brushing the burbling waters.

“Okay, sheep,” she called out, “come with me.”

The sheep stared back, unblinking and unmoved. Elli huffed, unhooked her axe from her belt and banged it against a nearby rock. The sheep startled at the sound of metal on stone, bleating and scurrying away.

“Now that I’ve got your attentions,” Elli began walking towards the herd, “will you follow me?” The animals offered her no response, and she reached into her cloak for the bundle of herbs and vegetables. She knelt and began unwrapping it, letting the wind carry the scent out to the sheep. The boldest of the herd came forward first, snuffling up the food. Other sheep followed soon and began sniffing around for more food.

“You remember me now?” Elli asked, running her hands through the nearest sheep’s wool. “Ungrateful little beasts.” She pushed herself from her knees and patted her leg. “Come now, you filthy clouds, let us get home.”

Foregoing the climb back up the hill, Elli waved up at Astrid and pointed at the forest path to signal her intent. Astrid waved back, whether in agreement or dissent was unclear, but Elli continued on her path. Although it would take her longer to arrive back in the village, the flatter path would be worth the extra time.

The sheep followed behind her like a white tail, winding through the woods. Their bleating was absorbed by the moss and the trees, and Elli kept her eyes and ears sharp for the sounds of any predators lurking in the trees. The earth beneath her boots was wet, and the thin layer of ice and snow crunched away to reveal the mud, a sure sign that winter was not yet upon them.

“You sheep are lucky,” Elli spoke as she walked, “just living happily in the valley all summer. You don’t have a single thought to spare for the gods, or your fates. Instead, you live each day as if it were your first and your last.” She spun her axe in her hand, squeezed the leather wrap in her fist. “I do not have that luxury.”

Beside her, a sheep bleated. Its fellow animals echoed the call, and Elli smiled. “You are right, my friend. I think too much.” She sighed and hooked her axe back in her belt. A tune pulled from her lungs, she hummed as she walked.

The bare branches of the trees reached out to the sky, and Elli likened them to fingers of draugr, skeletal and rotting, sharp and clawing at the clouds. They caught the flakes as they fell, the ones that slipped through landing on Elli’s shoulders and the backs of her charges.

Astrid was waiting for them as the trees began to thin out, leaning against the side of her horse. “Took you long enough.” Her eyes counted the sheep as they trotted by, and Elli held open the gate to the pasture.

“They may have four legs,” she said, “but sheep are not the fastest creatures in this realm.”

“Four must be the highest you can count,” Astrid remarked, “because you clearly cannot count all the sheep you have left behind.”

Elli frowned. “I can count fine. I did not lose a single sheep. Perhaps _you_ have forgotten to count, or forgotten how many we started with.”

“The jarl will not be pleased,” Astrid said.

“Who do you think the jarl will believe?” Elli swung the gate shut and hooked her arm around Astrid’s shoulders. “The lame shepherd, or his favourite niece?” She smiled good-naturedly and Astrid laughed, looping her own arm around Elli’s waist.

“You won’t think me so lame when we meet in Valhalla,” Astrid said, “for there, I will challenge you and show you just why they called me Bear-Slayer!” She bared her teeth and Elli chuckled.

“I believe you will,” Elli squeezed Astrid’s shoulder, “but not in this life.”

“You know what we call you around the drinking horn?” Astrid grinned and stepped in front of Elli, reaching a hand to her cheek and patting it. “Elli the Unblooded.”

“Not for much longer,” Elli replied, “I plan on joining the raid next summer. My uncle cannot keep me here forever. Who would respect a jarl that had never joined a raid?” Astrid backed away in her uneven way and shrugged.

“Remember that those were your words, not mine,” is all she said before turning and walking away, leaving Elli with the sheep.

-

“Skål!”

The voices of men and women echoed back the call, and Elli raised her own cup in the air. She drank, the mead sliding down her throat and warming her belly. Beside her, jarl Thorsteinn knocked back his own mead. He sat down in his throne, and Elli followed suit, sitting on the bench that ran lengthwise along the table. On her left, Björn Gunnarson, a man whose size lived up to his animal namesake, sat down and rattled the table as his weight shook the bench.

“There is much to be thankful for this winter,” Thorsteinn said. “A good harvest. The continuance of our raids across the sea, and our safety at home.” He looked at Elli and smiled. “Do you not agree, Elli?”

Elli picked at the meat that sat before her. “I do, uncle.”

“Then why do you look so sad?”

She hesitated, her brow knitting together. The truth sat at the tip of her tongue, but she swallowed it with a drink. “Maybe that is just the way I look.”

Laughing, her uncle clapped her on the shoulder. “Try to enjoy the feast,” he encouraged, “and let all those burdens slide off your back.”

“Your back is too small to carry them all,” Björn burped, the stink of mead on his breath.

“And you are too fat to carry anything other than your own belly,” Elli retorted. Björn’s laughter was booming, and he grabbed a pitcher, filling his cup and Elli’s.

“Drink with me, Jósteinnsdóttir!” he exclaimed. Elli grabbed her cup and held it as Björn slammed his cup against hers, shouting, “skål!” Elli repeated it in a mumble and began gulping back the mead. She watched Björn out of the corner of her eye, and he watched her, the competition unspoken as they both tried to finish their drinks first. Mead trickled into Björn’s beard, and Elli dropped her empty cup on the table.

“You are soaked through already, Björn,” she said as he spluttered against the final sips, “perhaps you should let the first barrel pass through before attempting a second.”

“That might be wise,” Björn slurred, wiping his mouth on the back of his hand, “you speak with a…a wisdom beyond your years, Jósteinnsdóttir.”

“I speak only with the wisdom that Odin granted me.” She grabbed another piece of meat and popped it in her mouth, chewing with a crooked smile.

“Elli!” From down the table, a familiar face rose. Boots thumped as they stepped onto the bench. Elli watched with amusement as Dina Ingensdóttir raised her cup and pointed a finger at her. “Elli, will you join our raids in the spring? Will you be blooded?”

Elli looked at her uncle, her jarl. He looked back at her, eyes like ice.

“If our jarl permits,” Elli called back, “I will lead the charge myself!”

A cheer sounded from the crowd; fists being banged against the table raised a deafening din. Elli felt a swelling in her chest at the sound. From her position standing on the bench, Dina’s eyes found Elli’s. She winked, and Elli hid her smile behind another cup of mead.

The dawn broke over sleeping bodies and spilled mead. Elli stepped carefully around her unconscious clan to the great doors of the longhouse. She pushed them open and the groan of the wood echoed through the hall. The sound of stirring spurred her faster out the doors, and she stepped out into the harsh light.

The day was a rare blue sky, sunlight that gleamed off of white snow and blinded Elli for a moment until she raised her hand and shaded her eyes. Down the hill, the ocean sparkled as it gently touched the shore. She could hear the creaking of the boats as they rocked gently side to side.

“Freyr blesses us.” She turned, beginning to jog as she headed through the village.

Feast days were quiet days. Few people were about, most still passed out or still too drunk. These days were some of Elli’s favourite days for that reason; she reveled in the peace, in the quiet that was too often disturbed. The night would come, and it would bring more feasting, more skalds weaving their tales through mead-drowned lips; more food, and more speeches exalting the glory of the gods, of the clan…

But now, now was the time for silence. Elli wound her way through the village, past the last houses and into the woods. She strayed off the path, following the route that her feet had tread a hundred times or more before now. The clearing that opened up before her was lightly dusted with snow, mossy stones still trying to peek out from beneath winter’s blanket. The sun dappled the ground and Elli stepped forward until it danced over the toes of her boots.

A breath.

From under a fallen tree, Elli pulled a round shield and an old axe. She hefted the shield and wrapped her fingers delicately around the hilt of the axe. The leather beneath her fingers was cold and stiff.

She began moving.

A warrior was only as strong as their shield arm; as deadly as their axe was sharp.

Her breathing grew heavier as she swung her blade, blocking imaginary attacks with her shield. Her feet made scuffling sounds against the frozen earth. The air fogged around her with her breaths.

Suddenly, the feeling of a very real attack landed on her shield.

Her eyes opened.

“You should never practice with your eyes closed,” Dina said, “you don’t want to close them in battle.”

Elli shoved her back with her shield. “You followed me?”

“It was easy, you’re about as sneaky as a drunken ox.” Dina twirled her axe in her hand and grinned. “And I am not as weak from mead as those drunken fools we call men.”

The sunlight made Dina’s hair shine. Elli had always admired Dina’s hair, long and thick, braided intricately back from her face. It was hardly ever loose, always battle-ready.

“I’m surprised,” Elli said, a teasing smile playing on her lips, “I thought you drank the barrel dry.”

“The art of deception is,” Dina paused and undid the clasp of her cloak, and Ellie watched it fall to the ground, “lost upon our clanmates.” Her axe was lifted and her eyes fixed on Elli. “Battle is not all about brute strength.”

“It certainly doesn’t hurt.” Elli lifted her shield and axe, and as she ran at Dina, she let out a loud battle-cry.

Dina sidestepped her and knocked the butt of her axe against the middle of Elli’s back. “Did _that_ hurt?”

Elli rolled her eyes, “Your jokes hurt me the most.” She charged again, and this time Dina let their blades meet, parrying Elli’s strike. Elli returned the parry with her shield. Their axes hooked together and Dina winked.

Elli’s back hit the ground.

“You know, Elli,” Dina said, kneeling down beside her and putting a hand to her cheek, “across the ocean, my enemies do not say that it is my jokes that hurt them.” She laid her axe on Elli’s chest. 

“Do you give them time to listen?”

Dina laughed and rose up from her knees. “No, they lose their heads before the joke is over.”

“Then I will count myself lucky,” Elli said, pushing herself up to a sitting position.

“Come,” Dina offered up her hand and pulled Elli to her feet, “I don’t want you to get killed in the spring, and I don’t plan on getting myself killed looking out for you.”

Elli nodded and handed Dina back her axe. “Imagine what the jarl would say.” Dina laughed and corrected Elli’s shield stance.

“He’d say, ‘if only Elli had listened to the brave Dina the Raven-Swift, she might still be here to be a fool another day’.”

“And if only Dina the Raven-Swift had taught her better,” Elli teased and lifted her axe, “then maybe she would not be fertilizing the fields of England.”

“You would make terrible fertiliser,” Dina kicked at Elli’s feet, widening her stance. “You’re skin and bones.” She gave Elli one last look, and then nodded. “Better. Now come, show me why you should be worthy of going vikingr.”

_Spring_

Elli watched as thralls and warriors loaded the longboats. Shipwrights inspected masts and oars; farmers brought their offerings of food for the journey.

She could see Dina at the end of the dock, directing thralls and their armfuls of supplies. Around her, warriors of all ages were bustling, some as young as fifteen winters and some older than the idea of winter itself.

It was an insult.

Her uncle stood at the top of the harbour, watching his warriors pack their ships. The wolfskin draped around his shoulder gave him all the airs that his position brought. Elli stormed towards him, the axe in her belt slamming against her thigh as she marched.

“Uncle!” She stood before him, fists clenched at her side. “Uncle, may I speak with you?”

“Speak,” Thorsteinn said, his eyes still fixed on the horizon.

“In private.” Her gaze held steady, not wavering, waiting for her uncle to meet her eyes.

He looked at her, the twitch of his lip beneath his beard being the only sign of his irritation. “Very well.”

Elli walked a foot behind him, following him to the longhouse. The air inside was smoky, the smell of cooking food permeated every inhale. Thorsteinn sat on his throne, leaned back, and stared at Elli with a questioning brow.

“I want to go raiding,” she said. Her voice echoed in the hall.

“You will not go raiding,” Thorsteinn answered. “Is that all?”

“Why not?” Elli gripped the axe at her side. The edges of the metal dug into her palm. “I am an excellent fighter. I have been training _all_ winter. I am nineteen winters, the niece of the jarl, it is _dishonourable_ for me to be kept here!”

“It is more dishonourable that you stand before me,” Thorsteinn said, “like a whining child, begging for me to let you go.” He flicked something out from his fingernail. “Are you not embarrassed?”

“No,” Elli stood her ground, “I feel no shame in asking for my chance at Valhalla.”

“You are not ready,” the jarl continued, “if you go, you will die. I made a vow to my brother that I would keep you safe-”

“That is not our way!” Elli roared. The sound of thralls bustling in the hall died down, and she felt the red-hot creep of anger and shame on her cheeks. “Uncle, please. If my father truly cared for me, he would not have sentenced me to this life of-of _farming_ , of sitting on my ass and twiddling my thumbs. I cannot stand another summer here. Please. Let me go.” She dropped to her knees, lowering her head. Anger had never been her friend when speaking with Thorsteinn, so she resorted to subservience.

“Elli,” he sighed, “you are the only kin I have. You will be the next jarl, and I cannot send you to go vikingr until you have learned all there is to keeping our people safe at home.” He stood and came to crouch before her, lifting her chin with his finger. “I will not lose you across the sea.”

Elli pulled her chin back and got to her feet. “Our people will never respect an unblooded jarl.” Her knees were covered in dirt from the floor, and she brushed them off. A deep breath drawn in, and a cool calm settled over her. “I will not disrespect my jarl.” Bending at the waist, she bowed slightly.

“One day,” Thorsteinn assured her, rising and placing his large hands on her shoulders, “I promise, one day you shall join the warriors and sail to unknown lands. You will know your glory.” His hands squeezed, and Elli had to resist ripping herself from his grasp. “But not today.”

“Yes, uncle.” She stepped back and his hands fell to his side. “I’m going to go help our warriors load the ships.”

At the dock, Elli caught Dina’s eye and waved her over. Dina passed off the crate she was loading and weaved through the crowd to reach Elli’s side.

“What did he say?” She asked, wiping a light sheen of sweat from her brow.

“What do you think?” Elli mumbled in response. A sudden wind kicked up, cutting through Elli’s tunic and causing her to shiver.

“I can talk to him,” Dina moved to push past her, but Elli grabbed her by the sleeve.

“He won’t listen.”

“I can be very persuasive.”

“He says he promised my father,” Elli began, “that he would keep me safe. He also says I must learn more about being jarl before I can go find my glory.”

“Being jarl is easy,” Dina scoffed, “look, I’ll be a jarl right now.” She turned and shouted, “hey, Knútr!” A stocky man with a long, red beard looked up. “Move those into the other ship!”

“Why?” His voice was like the bark of a dog.

“Because I fucking told you to, you _veslingr,_ ” Dina yelled back. Knútr huffed, but he grabbed the bundles he had just tucked away and started moving them over to the other ship. Dina nodded, satisfied. “See? Easy.”

“Telling people what to do is not all that it takes to be jarl,” Elli commented with a roll of her eyes, “otherwise, even Halldór the Half-wit over there could do it.” They both looked at the lanky boy struggling to lift his end of a chest.

“He’s going to be killed the second we beach the ships,” Dina sighed, “but at least he will have an axe in hand when it happens.”

Elli grunted in agreement. Two men brush by, their arms laden with furs and axes. “It’s not fair, Dina.”

“No, it’s not.” Dina put her hands on Elli’s biceps and gave her an encouraging smile. “Valhalla isn’t going anywhere, Elli.”

Elli swallowed the marble in her throat. “I know.”

“Don’t look so disheartened,” Dina reassured, “there is still one more night before I leave. Your uncle has promised us a great feast. Mead has never failed in nursing a wounded pride.”

Laughing, Elli shoved Dina’s shoulder. Dina grinned back at her and linked their arms, dragging Elli along as she walked to the shore, leaving the busy docks behind them.

-

It hadn’t stopped raining for three days. The earth was soaked through, every path a mess of mud. The air was permeated with a bone-deep chill, the kind that refused to go away no matter how close you sat to the hearth, or how high the flames leapt. Even in the smoky warmth of the longhouse, Elli had had to wrap herself in furs to keep the cold out.

She sat next to her uncle as members of their village waited to air their grievances. It was a small althing, with most of the men and a number of the women having left half a moon ago on the ships.

There were fewer crimes committed with the rowdiest members of the village off raiding, but Elli had learned early on that no matter was too small or trivial for people to feel it worthy of the jarl’s attention.

“Brynhildr Erriksdóttir,” Thorsteinn greeted, “what grievance do you bring to me?"

Brynhildr was an elderly woman, far past her child-bearing years. She was little more than a gossip and a lazy old bag of bones, in Elli’s opinion, forever bring forth complaints about neighbours. How her uncle found the patience to listen to her althing after althing, Elli would never know.

“Sigrid Yngvarsdóttir has been letting her cats hunt my chickens,” Brynhildr began, “I have lost three of my best hens to her beasts!”

“Is Sigrid here to defend herself?” Thorsteinn asked.

“Yes, I am here.” Sigrid stepped forward from the crowd. Elli looks the woman up and down. She’s young, only a winter or two older than Elli herself, with reddish-blonde hair that falls down her back.

Suddenly, the case of Brynhildr’s dead chickens seemed a lot more interesting than before.

“And what do you say to this accusation?”

Sigrid looked over at Brynhildr and then back at the jarl. “I cannot control my cats, jarl Thorsteinn. They are not pets, but guests in my home. I care for them as Freyja would, but I do not claim ownership over them.”

“She admits it!” Brynhildr’s voice was shrill, and Elli gritted her teeth. “Jarl, I beg you, see justice done for my chickens!”

Thorsteinn stroked his beard. “Elli Jósteinnsdóttir will decide.”

Elli looked at her uncle with surprise. “I will?” Thorsteinn inclined his head, and Elli nodded. “I will.” She looked at the two women before her, the seething elder and the calm young woman. “Sigrid Yngvarsdóttir, your father is on the raid, is he not?”

“He is,” Sigrid’s eyes were startlingly blue, “I am in charge of our household while he is away.”

“I have heard great tales of Yngvar Bone-Crusher,” Elli said, smiling slightly, “and his great honour in battle.” She linked her fingers together and leaned forward. “I do not believe that his daughter would do something so dishonourable as to unleash her cats upon defenseless chickens.”

“My lord, you are going to let this child decide?” Brynhildr tried to protest, but was quickly silenced by Thorsteinn raising his hand.

“It does not sit well with me to hold the servants of Freyja in contempt,” Elli continued. “I would not risk her wrath by killing them, either.” Sigrid’s lips twitched up in a smile, and Elli felt her confidence bolstered. “Cats only hunt when they are hungry. If Sigrid’s cats are fed more, they will not feel the need to hunt Brynhildr’s chickens.” She looked over at her uncle and met his even gaze. “So, I think it would be fitting to ensure that Sigrid’s cats are fed more. In fact, they are welcome to the scraps from our dinners, if Sigrid would like to come and take them at any time.”

“You are most generous,” Sigrid said, bending her knees slightly.

“I am also fair,” Elli sat back in her seat, “and so you will pay Brynhildr for the chickens she lost. Five pieces of silver apiece should cover it, I think.”

“Of course.” Sigrid bowed her head with a smile.

“Jarl Thorsteinn, I do not think this fair at all!” Brynhildr protested again, her shrill voice ringing in Elli’s ears. “Why should her cats be rewarded for their crimes?”

“A cat is just a cat, Brynhildr,” Thorsteinn said, “they cannot deny their nature. However, if you desire to anger Freyja and kill her servants, I will leave that to you.” He lived up to his name then, his posture unmoving and his face giving nothing away.

“I will settle for seven pieces of silver for each chicken,” Brynhildr finally relented. Thorsteinn looked to Sigrid, who nodded.

“Very well,” Thorsteinn raises his hands, “it is decided.”

Sigrid and Brynhildr faced each other and clasped each other’s forearms. Before Sigrid disappeared into the crowd, she sent one more look Elli’s way. The corner of Elli’s mouth lifted into half of a smile and then Sigrid was gone.

“Well done,” Thorsteinn muttered, leaning over and patting Elli’s arm. “Brynhildr is a bitter old crow, but she holds respect here. Her husband and sons all died far from home, and though she is hardly more than a headache, we must remember that her sacrifice for our people has been great.”

Elli nodded. “It’s too bad one of those cats didn’t bite her.”

The chuckle that her uncle had to hide in his beard filled her chest with warmth, and the next plaintiff stepped forward. The prospect of the day-long althing no longer felt like a weight on her shoulders.

_Summer_

Sunlight danced off the ocean. It glittered like a million gemstones.

Elli stood waist deep in the water and stared out at the mouth of the inlet. A few fishing boats dotted the horizon, working to bring in the day’s catch. The water lapped at the bare skin of her stomach and caused a chill to trickle down her spine.

“Elli,” Sigrid called out to her from the shore. Elli looked over her shoulder at the other woman. Her hair caught the sun and for a second, she looked radiant and unearthly.

“What is it?” Elli turned and began to walk back to shore, the gentle tide pushing and pulling her as she moved.

“You were supposed to meet me in the village,” Sigrid reminded her, folding her arms over her chest. Elli cursed and grabbed her shirt from where she had draped it over a log.

“I’m sorry,” she popped her head through the neck and clasped her belt around her waist, “I must have lost track of time.” The shield and axe she had brought were laid out on the beach, and Elli traced Sigrid’s gaze to them.

“You were practicing?”

Elli nodded, “I am always practicing.” She tucked the axe into her belt and lifted the shield, brushing sand off the chipping paint. “Maybe one day, my uncle will see this and let me raid with the rest of our warriors.”

“I’m sure he will,” Sigrid said, “how could he not?”

“I’ve been asking that question for four winters now,” Elli mumbled. Sigrid’s hand was warm on Elli’s shoulder through the thin material of her shirt, damp with salty water.

“Come,” Sigrid pulled at Elli’s shoulder until they were a hairsbreadth apart, “can we not speak of you uncle anymore?” Elli nodded and let Sigrid place a warm kiss on her lips. She tasted sweet, like berries.

They wandered along the shore together, watching the seabirds circle overhead. Sigrid talked of the coming feasts, the celebrations of summer. Elli listened with one ear closed, her mind full of competing thoughts.

She thought of Dina, across a vast ocean, fighting and raiding. Did she ever think of Elli, or was her blood too hot with the fury of battle? How close to Valhalla had she come?

She thought of foreign lands, filled with vast riches and land ripe for the plunder. Lands she may never get the chance to see. Riches she would never reap.

“That’s strange,” Sigrid said, and Elli snapped back to the present, “aren’t those jarl Sigmund’s ships?” Elli squinted against the sun. Two longships were being rowed in to the village harbour, their sails flying the colours of jarl Sigmund’s clan.

Elli mumbled, “My uncle didn’t mention that jarl Sigmund was coming to visit us.” She took off at a jog, leaving Sigrid behind. Her feet slipped against the sand and the shield weighed down her arm, but Elli didn’t stop running until she had reached the docks. The shield is tossed aside as she waited for the boats to dock.

The contingent of men and women do not look much like warriors. Elli supposed most of jarl Sigmund’s best fighters must be abroad raiding. The jarl himself stepped onto the dock, a light cloak with golden embroidery along the edges hanging from his shoulders. From behind Elli, Thorsteinn strode onto the docks, holding out his arms in greeting to the other jarl. Elli watched them as they embraced, brow furrowed.

Jarl Sigmund and Jarl Thorsteinn made their way to land, the former’s people following them at a distance. Elli followed the small parade to the longhouse. Inside, the two jarls sat together at the head of the long table. The smell of cooking meats was strong, the air was hot and stuffy despite all of the doors being propped open. Jarl Sigmund’s clan took seats around the table as thralls began bringing food and drinks. Hanging back, Elli leaned up against one of the intricately carved pillars, watching this strange turn of events unfold.

“Helga, sound the bell!” Thorsteinn ordered. An elderly thrall walked past Elli to the bell that hung outside the longhouse. Four loud clangs signalled the beginning of a feast, and through the open doors Elli could hear the sounds of the village’s populace making their way to the longhouse.

Men, women, and children poured through the doorways, boisterous and eager to begin eating and drinking. Elli falls into the crowd, picking a spot close enough to hear what her uncle and Sigmund were speaking about, but not so close that she’d be drawn into the conversation.

The food was exquisite, fresh from fields and animals alike. It was a welcome change from the dark months of winter and spring, where only cured and preserved foods could be found on the table. Even the mead tasted fresher, and it slipped down Elli’s throat with ease.

“Thorsteinn, I cannot thank you enough for this kindness,” Sigmund was saying.

“It is nothing,” Thorsteinn replied, “I know you would do the same for my people.”

Elli ripped a chunk of bread from the nearby loaf and picked a piece from it, popping it in her mouth. What had her uncle done for Jarl Sigmund’s people?

“Valdís is not to be trusted,” Sigmund continued. “Her and her bear-warriors laid waste to my village. So many of my people, dead. I fear what will become of those who return home from the raids. I have none I can send to warn them.”

“Worry not, my brother,” Thorsteinn clapped his hand to Sigmund’s shoulder, “I will be sure to send scouts to keep watch at the mouth of your bay. Valdís will not claim the lives of any more of your people.” He stood then, banging his cup on the table. The gathered people quieted; their attentions turned to the great man at the head of their table.

“My clansmen,” Thorsteinn began, “my brothers and sisters, my children, my kin. We are joined today by the fine folk of the Reindeer Clan and their esteemed jarl, Sigmund Oaken-Shield.” The crowd roared in hospitality. “Tragedy has befallen our friends from the west. Valdís and her beserkers came and attacked in the night, like cowards!” An outcry of disgust in the crowd. “I have promised jarl Sigmund and his people a place to stay until our warriors have returned from their vikingr, and we can retake his village and rid ourselves of Valdís and her army for good!”

Elli joined the shouting, her throat aching against the sheer volume of her cries. All around her, the people gathered in the hall banged fists against tables, stomped their feet, mead spilling from cups and plates falling to the floor.

Her blood boiled with the promise of battle.

_end part one_


	2. Part II - Chapter I

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There is what I've tagged as canon-typical violence in this chapter, so please proceed with that in mind.

_Autumn_

Seabirds circled overhead, their cries echoed off the rocky walls of the fjord and mixed with the sounds of the camp. Blades scraped on grindstones and loud voices filled the air with laughter. Elli sat at the edge of the camp on a stump, running a whetstone over the blade of her axe.

The mixed contingent of Elli’s clan and the warriors of the Reindeer clan had been camped here for nearly five days. Nestled into the side of the hill, they watched and waited for the return of their longships from the raids. With those warriors returned to their clans from across the whale road, the battle to retake the Reindeer clan’s home would begin. Each day had passed slower than the last. There was a sense of unrest in the camp, and Elli knew that, like her, each warrior was waiting impatiently for the fight to come.

As Elli ran the whetstone over her blade one last time, a horn sounded. She leapt to her feet, running to the edge of the small cliff and squinting against the evening sun. Like dragons of the sea, the longships came into view, silhouetted against the golden sun as they rose and fell with the waves.

“They’re here!” Elli couldn’t stop the words from leaving her lips. Her heart beats in her chest like a fist on a drum. Behind and beside her, more warriors gather to watch the ships sail into view.

“Leif, Unnr,” Thorsteinn’s voice commanded attention, “row out to meet them.”

Elli watched as the small boat was rowed out to the middle of the channel, rocked by the unforgiving waves. The other warriors seemed to return to whatever they were doing before, but she couldn’t draw her eyes from the ships. Sails were lowered and the longships were rowed to the shore below, their oars dipping into the water in unified strokes.

Unbidden, Elli’s feet carried her down the slope earth to where the ships beached, a nervous energy stealing her breath and narrowing her vision. Warriors climbed from the boats, their skin worn and weathered from the journey. Elli’s eyes scanned each face as they passed her by, her blood rushing ever faster with each second that she didn’t see the one she was looking for.

“Knùtr,” she grabbed the arm of a familiar face, stopping the man in his tracks, “where is Dina?”

Knùtr pulled his arm from her grip and jerked his thumb over his shoulder. “Probably telling some poor sack of shit what to do, as always.”

Elli pushed past him, winding her way through the crowd of warriors. The waves rattled the stony beach and created a din with the footsteps and the chatter of the men and women who had finally set foot on solid ground.

Her eyes fell upon the shield-maiden she’d been looking for.

The sunlight danced off the ocean, and it would have been mesmerising if not for the woman before her. Elli felt a great lightness in her heart as she took in the sight of Dina standing on the gunnel of the longship. Dark hair braided back as it always was, the loose strands blowing in the firm winds. She was pointing at something, instructing someone as always, and Elli allowed the curve of a smile to take over her lips.

“I see Odin didn’t want you to join his great feast this time, Raven-Swift,” Elli called out.

Dina turned her head, and the wide smile that she bestowed upon Elli was beautiful enough to make the skies clear for a hundred years.

“The All-Father is patient,” Dina answered, jumping down into the shallow water with a splash, “he never takes a warrior before her time.” She walked forward and stood in front of Elli, close enough that either could reach out and touch the other.

“How was the raid?”

Dina reached into the collar of her tunic and pulled out a golden chain. On the end of it was a heavy golden cross, the sign of the Christians, studded with precious stones. She took Elli’s hand and let her feel the weight of it. “Does this answer your question?”

“It’s impressive,” Elli ran her thumb over the stones, “but no, it does not.”

“We brought back treasure,” Dina said, taking the necklace back and tucking it back under her shirt, “we killed many Christians, and I did not die. You should be happy with that.” The smile had fallen from her face now, and Elli reached out and placed her hand on Dina’s shoulder.

“I am always happy to see you return, Dina,” Elli said, her voice low. Dina’s eyes met hers for a second before flicking away to look over Elli’s shoulder.

“Why are we here, Elli?” Dina stepped back and Elli’s hand fell to her side.

Elli explained as they walked up the hill. She told Dina about the events of the summer, of Jarl Sigmund’s arrival and the attack of Valdís on his clan’s home. She told her of her uncle’s plan to attack Valdís in three days’ time, now that the raiders had returned.

“Your uncle let you join this fight?” Dina asked.

“He took some convincing,” Elli admitted, “but there was no way for him to refuse another axe when we face such a formidable foe so close to home.”

Dina clapped her hand on Elli’s shoulder, stepping closer as they walked past a woman whose arms were laden with treasure. “I am happy for you. Maybe Valhalla isn’t so far away from you after all.” Elli smiled and shrugged her shoulders.

“Maybe not.”

When they reached the camp, Elli led Dina to her tent.

“You can stay with me, if you’d like,” Elli said, suddenly nervous. She gripped the top of her axe where it rested at her waist. Her tent was larger than most, with warm furs piled on the makeshift bed and food covering a large table. Her position as the Jarl’s niece granted her these luxuries, and though she enjoyed them, she could not help but feel like they were undeserved.

Dina grabbed a slice of bread from the table and ripped a piece from it with her teeth. She wandered around the tent, her fingers traced over the rack of weapons and the leather armor that stands by the bed.

“Do I get my own furs, or are these for us to share?” Her eyes twinkled mischievously as she ate another chunk of the bread.

Elli felt her cheeks heat with blood. “I will send for more, of course.”

“Of course.” Dina collapsed back onto the furs and sighed. “You know, this is much more comfortable than the floor of a longship.”

“I can imagine.”

Dina struggled to kick off her boots, finally flinging them across the tent. “You will wake me if your uncle calls a meeting?”

Elli nodded, “Of course.” Dina smiled as her eyes drifted shut, pulling a large fur over her body.

A cold wind blew through the tent, the open-faced front of the tent allowing for the sounds of the camp and the smells of the sea to waft in with each breeze. Elli grabbed another fur from the bed and knelt, gently draping it over Dina’s curled up form.

“Elli.”

She looked over her shoulder and saw Sigrid standing at the entrance to her tent. Elli stood and walked to her, a flash of setting sunlight blinding her for a moment before it disappeared behind the camp in front of her.

“Sigrid,” Elli greeted her with a small smile, “have you seen your father?”

“Yes, he is resting now,” she answered. Elli nodded her head, unable to meet Sigrid’s eyes. “Is Dina well?”

“Tired,” Elli ran her thumb over the top of her axe, “as they all are.”

Sigrid took Elli’s hand and pulled her closer. “Will you join me for a drink?”

Elli hesitated, her body aching to return to Dina’s side and wait for her to wake. “Yes, of course,” she cleared her throat and inclined her head, “lead the way.”

Later that night, when the Valkyries lit up the sky with their armour and led the fallen warriors to Valhalla, Elli returned to her tent with a belly full of mead and food. Her vision was pleasantly blurred, her mind perfectly fuzzy. She stumbled as she walked into her tent, tossing her axe to the ground and beginning to undo the clasp of her belt. Her fingers struggled with the buckle. She looked up in frustration, ready to find a knife just to cut the damn thing off, but her thoughts were cut off instead by the sight of Dina, her back bare to the night as she tried to reach it with a wet cloth.

“Oh,” Elli’s voice felt too loud in the quiet night, “I’m sorry, I was not – that is, I didn’t know-”

Dina looked over her shoulder and raised her eyebrows. “Privacy is not something I’ve had for the past five moons, Elli. Do not feel like you need to apologise.”

Her stomach felt caught on a fishhook, tugging in every direction. “I will give it to you, then. Well-deserved.”

“Actually,” Dina stood and walked towards her, and Elli fixed her eyes on the roof of the tent, digging her fingernails into the palms of her hands, “I could use your help.” She held out the cloth to Elli.

Numbly, Elli took it and waited for instruction.

“I just can’t reach between my shoulders,” Dina explained, “and it has been a long time since I’ve felt properly clean.” She turned then, gathering up her hair and pulling it over her shoulder and out of Elli’s way.

Elli’s mouth is too dry to speak. She takes the cloth and runs it down Dina’s back, wiping away salt of the sea and the skin. The candles in the tent provide little illumination, but Elli can still make out the familiar lines of the tattoos that cover Dina’s back. Huginn and Munin, Odin’s ravens, one on each side of her spine to cover the blades of her shoulders. At the top of her spine sits the vegvisir, the first tattoo that Elli remembered Dina receiving. Now, as she wiped the grime from Dina’s skin, she noticed fresher ink running down the length of Dina’s spine.

“Is this new?” Elli traced the length of the tattoo with the cloth.

“Yes,” Dina answered, “it’s-”

“Yggdrasil,” Elli mumbled, “the great tree of life.” She stared at the branches of the tree, reaching out to meet the wings of the ravens. “It’s beautiful.” Lowering the cloth, Elli stepped back and blinked hard, trying to pull herself from the trance she was in.

Dina rolled her shoulders, stretching her neck from side to side. “Thank you.” She grabbed a light shirt from the end of the bed and pulled it on over her head. “It’s not a bath, but I do feel better.”

Elli wrung out the cloth and set it on the corner of the table. “Are you hungry? There is still some food by the main fire, I don’t think Björn ate it all.”

“No,” Dina began pulling her boots back on, “but I would like to see the ride of the Valkyries tonight, and pay my respect to my fallen shield brothers and sisters.” She grabbed one of Elli’s cloaks from where it lay on a wooden stool and draped it around her shoulders. “Will you join me?”

Elli nodded her consent. Together they walked through the camp in silence. Dina led them up the hillside, climbing over rocks and hoisting herself onto outcroppings as they went. Elli followed close behind, her movements slowed from the drink and the food that weighed down her belly. Dina did not stop until they had nearly reached the top of the hill, and she sat on a fallen tree. Elli sat next to her, a hand’s length away, close enough that the heat from their bodies mingled between them.

High above, the Valkyries lit up the sky with their shining armour. Elli sat in the silence of the night, listening to the lapping of the tides against the shores. No birds sang under the moon, no animals rustled the underbrush. Beside her, Dina stared up at the sky. The green and purple hues danced across her face as she closed her eyes, lips moving in a silent prayer for the dead. Elli watched her lips move, watched the flutter of her eyes beneath her eyelids.

“They say death is the goal,” Dina spoke suddenly, and Elli looked down at her boots as dark eyes opened, “that we, as Odin’s chosen people, should welcome death.”

“The Great Feast,” Elli said, “that is why we fight. For a seat at Odin’s table.”

Dina nodded. “I wonder if that is true.”

“You question the gods?”

“No,” Dina sighed and looked at Elli, “I do not question the gods.” She leaned forward, elbows on her knees, hands clasped in front of her. “I was scared, Elli. In battle, I was scared to die.” Her voice shook, and she lowered her head. Elli looked over at her, at the way her shoulders shook with withheld words. She shuffled closer on the log, until their legs pressed together. Through the material of her trousers, Elli could feel the warmth of Dina’s leg on her own. It sent a wave through her body, warm and comforting.

“I know nothing of battle,” Elli said.

“You will soon.”

Dina’s words chilled Elli.

“Do you think I am ready?”

Dina’s hand landed on Elli’s knee. “It doesn’t matter what I think, Elli. It only matters what _you_ think.”

To her left, Elli heard a rustle in the brush. Her eyes peered into the darkness. Through the branches of a shrub, she saw the grey fur and yellow eyes of a fox. Elli watched as it emerged from the bush, its tail flicking. The fox dipped its head, never once breaking the connection of their gazes.

Elli blinked, and the fox was gone.

She looked to Dina, to see if she had noticed the creature, but Dina’s eyes were still focused on the sky. Elli took a steadying breath.

“I think I am.” Elli carefully laid her hand on top of Dina’s. Dina turned her hand, palm pressing to Elli’s as their fingers linked. “You will be by my side?”

Dina’s hand squeezed hers. “For every swing of the axe.”

\--

Elli closed her eyes as fingers traced her face, marking her for battle. The charcoal ægishjalmr is painted on her forehead. Around her eyes, dark circles were painted, a line down the centre of her face that ran onto her neck.

“You are ready, Elli Jósteinnsdóttir,” the woman before her said, and Elli opened her eyes.

“Thank you,” she said. Behind the woman, Dina appeared, her own paint already donned. Four lines cut through each of her eyes, red iron paint traced her cheekbones. Her armour was simple, light leather. Her shield was strapped to her back, and Elli knew she would find black ravens on a red background there. A knife and two axes rested at her waist.

“You look like a true warrior now,” Dina commented with a grin. Elli stood and grabbed her axe where it lay on the ground beside her. She hung it from her belt and walked to Dina.

“Do you like it?”

Dina put her hand to the leather that covered Elli’s chest. “Of course you would choose all black.” Her fingers rest there a moment, the tips of them tapping over her collarbone. “Come, Elli the Unblooded, let’s sharpen your axe and choose your shield.”

As the moon began to rise, the warriors gathered in the forest. The home of the Reindeer clan lay thirty ship-lengths away, through thick trees. Elli’s shield was heavy on her arm, comforting. Beside her, Dina shifted from foot to foot. All around her, the energy of the warriors was like a current, strong and consuming. With every second that passed, her blood warmed closer to the battle-boil she needed.

Torches lit the air around them, casting shadows across faces. The sky above grew darker with each breath, and the shedding branches of the trees clawed at the stars, trying to drag them down to the earth.

“Brothers and sisters,” Thorsteinn called from the front of the pack, “today, we will finally rid these lands of the scourge known as Valdís and her bear-skin warriors. We do this to honour or brother and sisters of the Reindeer clan, a clan that has been friend to ours through many hardships.” A murmur of agreement went through the crowd and axes tapped on shields.

“We will fight for these lands like they are our own,” Thorsteinn said. “Some of us may dine in Valhalla tonight, and I know that the Valkyries will carry each and every one of you straight to Odin’s table!”

The army roared, slamming their axes and swords upon their shields. Elli cried with them, primal in her thirst for battle.

“Lo, there do I see my father,” Dina murmured beside her, “lo, there do I see my mother, my sisters, and my brothers.” Elli stared at her, at the quiet way she simmered. “Lo, there do I see my people, back to the beginning. Lo, there they do call to me and ask me to take my place in the halls of Valhalla,” and she turned her gaze to Elli’s, eyes burning with battle-lust, “where the brave may live forever.”

A horn sounded.

The sound of hundreds of feet thundered in the woods.

Elli broke through the trees into the village.

She followed the rush of the crowd.

Down the dirt path, a small crowd of men appeared. Their bare chests and were streaked with something dark.

As they drew nearer, Elli knew it to be blood.

“For Odin!”

She didn’t know who raised the cry, but she joined in.

She raised her shield.

A shock ran down her arm as it met with the swing of an axe.

She pushed back with all her might, shoving her attacker back. He screamed, and laughed, his eyes black with the rage of a beserker. Elli felt her heart beat her ribs. Her axe swung forward, and the beserker blocked it with his own. She yelled and shoved with her shield again, knocking him off balance.

It was surprising, how easily her blade cut through his flesh and bone.

She had thought it would be harder, that the body would offer some resistance.

His blood sprayed her face as it flew from his neck.

He died laughing.

Elli wiped the blood from her eyes and leapt over his body.

Ahead, she watched as Dina fought, hair whirling behind her. Her twin axes flew through the air, blood flying from their blades.

Behind her, a sharp cry of pain. She turned in time to watch Gudrun’s body fall.

The woman who had slain her turned her blade to Elli. A sharp pain exploded across her arm as the edge of the blade caught her skin. Warmth poured down her arm, sticky and red.

Almost too late, she lifted her shield and blocked another swing of the sword. And another. Her axe was dropped as she braced her shield with both arms. She hit the ground next, her arms rattled with every strike of the sword against her shield. Elli kicked out her legs, trying to knock her assailant back.

The blows stopped, and a heavy weight fell on top of her instead.

She shoved the body of the dead beserker off of her and grabbed the hand that was offered to her.

“Odin won’t have you yet.” Dina handed her back her axe.

They ran through the village together, the sounds of battle all around them.

“Dina!” Elli called out as a man leapt out from behind a small house. Dina ducked just in time, his axe missing her head by a fingers-width. Elli grabbed him by the shoulder and spun him to face her. Taking advantage of his momentary surprise, she drove her axe into his chest.

Once.

Twice.

Three times.

He fell to the earth, his chest covered in his own blood.

Her grip on her axe was slick with it.

They reached the longhouse in a flurry of flesh and blood, blade and bone. Warriors gathered in an arc around the muddy court. Sigmund and Thorsteinn stood in front of the doors.

“Come out, Valdís!” Sigmund yelled. “Come out, you coward!” His axe was held over his shoulder, the blade bigger than any Elli had seen before. How he swung it, she had no idea.

The warriors pounded their shields, taunting the woman inside to come out.

The doors swung open and Elli’s grip tightened on her axe.

The woman was silhouetted by the light of the longhouse, flames flickering behind her. She was surprisingly small in stature; her head was bare of all hair. As she stepped outside, the moon illuminated the blood that painted her chest, runes of all descriptions scattered over pale and scarred skin.

“Jarl Sigmund,” she spoke and her voice was like a knife on stone, “I kept your throne warm for you.”

A dozen warriors appeared behind her. They bared their teeth like fangs.

“Face me in honourable combat,” Sigmund spat, “and I will let the rest of your people live.”

Valdís laughed. “You think my people care about living?” She stepped forward and held her arms out. “We are the sons and daughters of Odin!” Her warriors howled as they stepped into the night. “We do not fear death.”

Beside her, Elli heard Dina inhale sharply.

“Then face me!”

Valdís laughed again, and her warriors laughed with her. The sound sent chills down Elli’s spine, and she could feel the unease ripple through the crowd.

“You are not worthy of my blade, Jarl Sigmund.”

Sigmund yelled then, deep and tortured. He swung his great axe and the blade bit into the earth at Valdís’ feet.

She didn’t flinch.

“If you will not fight me,” Sigmund shouted, “then my warriors will slaughter every last one of your people. We will tie you up and turn you into a blood eagle, and ravens will feast upon your flesh until you are _nothing_ but bones!”

Elli felt a tickle at the back of her neck. Slowly, she turned her head.

In the faint light of the moon, she saw the fox on the roof. It’s eyes glowed, its tail flicked. The fox looked to its right, and Elli could see the outline of a bow being raised.

“Dina,” she grabbed Dina’s arm, “Dina, the rooves.”

Dina followed her gaze and Elli watched realisation dawn in her eyes.

“Shield wall!”

Dina’s voice cut through the night, and there was only a second’s hesitation before an arrow struck someone down. Elli raised her own shield over her and Dina’s heads. All around her, shields were raised and warriors scrambled to form the shield wall. It was a pack of bodies, shields like the armor of a dragon as they held together. Arrows thumped into the wooden shields.

The tip of an arrowhead pierced through Elli’s shield and poked through between her and Dina’s faces.

“Stay strong,” Dina yelled out to the warriors, “hold the wall!”

The onslaught of arrows ended. Elli shifted to peek out from behind her shield, to see if the fox was still there, but Dina stopped her with a cutting hiss of breath.

“Hold the wall.”

The slamming weight of bodies on shields came next. Battle-cries and blades ringed out in the air. Elli braced herself against the tidal wave of blows, digging her heels into the dirt.

“Push!”

The shield wall broke and the warriors exploded into the combat.

It was different than before. Weapons were discarded almost immediately with no room to swing them. Elli fell to the ground, locked in the grip of a berserker. She clawed at his skin and grabbed at his throat. He grabbed hers as well, and they locked as eyes as they rushed to kill the other, and Elli gasped for breath.

A boot crushed his skull before she could finish him off.

Her stomach turned.

An arm wrapped around her throat and squeezed.

She remembered the knife in her boot, and drove it backwards over her head. Blood poured down her face as she pulled it out, the arm loosened, and she pushed herself up.

The knife found her attacker’s neck.

His blood tasted rotten.

Dina grappled with a woman twice her size. Elli watched her teeth rip the woman’s arm, watched her spit flesh and blood from her lips. She hooked her leg around the other woman’s and slammed her to the ground.

Elli rammed her shoulder into another man’s chest, pushing against him and ripping his side open with her knife. His own blade pierced her armour and her skin, and it pulled from her a cry of pain with the blood that began to spill. Her hand gripped the braid that hung from the man’s head and yanked back. Her blade slid across his throat.

She stood, surrounded by fallen friends and foes. Her hand pressed to the wound in her side.

Dina pulled a blade from the chest of a beserker.

Through the mess of battle, Elli watched her uncle’s sword as it pushed through the stomach of a man. Behind him, Valdís spun her axe in hand.

“Uncle!” Elli roared.

Her feet slipped as she ran, the ground slick with blood. Her heart pounded in her ears, and she grabbed an axe from a fallen shield-maiden.

It met with Valdís’ just before she could strike Thorsteinn’s back.

With a mighty shove, Elli pushed Valdís back.

Now, at close range, Elli could see that everything the beserker wore was made of bones. The runes on her chest traced the lines of her skeleton. Her eyes seemed set far into her skull, dark and hollow.

It was as if Hel had come to walk on Midgard.

“A child,” Valdís sneered, “has saved the life of the mighty Jarl Thorsteinn.”

Elli yelled and surged forward, swinging her axe. Valdís caught it, and with a strength that her thin frame did not betray, she twisted it from Elli’s grip.

There was a pop, and Elli fell to the ground, her arm hanging at an unnatural angle.

A boot kicked her away, and she cried out as her arm was crushed under her body. Mud mixed with the blood that caked her face. She wiped it from her eyes and tried to stand.

From her knees, she watched as Thorsteinn locked blades with Valdís.

The woman moved with a great speed. Elli watched as her uncle blocked strike after strike, his own blade barely skimming the skin of his opponent.

It was a moment that skalds would sing about in their sagas. The battle around them died as every pair of eyes turned to the two warriors. Their fight was a flurry of blades.

Dina appeared at Elli’s side, helping her to her feet.

Thorsteinn landed a blow.

Valdís matched it.

“Thor lends your uncle his strength,” Dina said, slinging Elli’s uninjured arm over her shoulders.

It was over with a lucky swing of Thorsteinn’s sword.

Valdís fell to her knees, blood running from the gash in her side.

“Kill the rest.” Thorsteinn dropped his sword and kneeled before Valdís. “Someone fetch some rope.”

\--

Elli leaned against the side of the longhouse. Her right arm rested in a sling, her left held a half-eaten apple.

“I had never seen a blood eagle before,” Dina said from beside her. Her lip was still swollen from the battle that had transpired a few nights ago, scrapes and cuts on their way to mending.

Elli took a bite of her apple and looked at the inhuman form that used to be Valdís. “She deserved it. She slaughtered many people in her life.”

“So have I,” Dina stepped in front of Elli, blocking her view as she adjusted the knot of the sling. “Do I deserve that?”

“You kill in battle,” Elli said, “we all kill in battle. We do not kill those who cannot defend themselves.” Dina’s hand rested at the nape of her neck. Her eyes studied Elli’s face for a moment, and Elli raised an eyebrow. “What?”

“One battle and you think you’re so wise,” Dina teased, pinching the skin at the back of Elli’s neck. Elli rolled her eyes and grinned.

“Wiser than you.”

Dina laughed and pulled her hand back, her fingers tracing the collar of Elli’s tunic. “Are you ready?”

Elli nodded and they walked through the village together. The people of the Reindeer clan had not yet arrived to reclaim their homes. The warriors were all resting from the battle and lending their labour to help repair damaged homes.

They arrived at a small tent near the edge of the village. Elli took a seat under the canopy and smiled in greeting at Katla.

“Elli Jósteinnsdóttir,” Katla said, “it’s a pleasure to finally have you here.” Her ink-covered fingers skimmed over her tools, and Elli swallowed her discomfort at the sight of the needles.

“I’m glad to be here.”

Dina sat beside her and peered at the needles. “Make sure you use the biggest one, Katla.”

Elli punched her in the thigh.

“Do you know what you want?” Katla asked.

Elli nodded and brushed her fingers over the side of her head, the recently shaved skin soft to her touch. “A fox.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so much for your support. If anyone has any questions about terminology or anything like that, please let me know in a comment or come find me on tumblr!


	3. Part II - Chapter II

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jul - "Yule", a winter festival lasting 12 days.

_Winter_

“And so,” Dina held up a sprig of mistletoe, “Frigg vowed to place a kiss on all of those who passed under the mistletoe, to honour the plant that she forgot.”

“The plant that killed her son,” a young boy piped in.

“Yes, Gunnar,” Dina smiled, “and Frigg never made the mistake of forgetting about the unassuming little plant again.”

Elli watched from her seat by the hearth as Dina answered more of the children’s questions. Next to her, Sigrid talked of the Jul celebrations that were to start tomorrow.

“Are you listening, Elli?”

Elli snapped her eyes back to the woman beside her. “Yes, of course.”

“Then what did I just say?” Sigrid challenges her with a cocked eyebrow, and Elli grabs a piece of cured meat from the table, leaning back in her chair.

“You were talking of the size of the Jul boar,” Elli guessed, “and how eager you were to eat it.”

Sigrid huffed and stood. She opened her mouth to say something, then shut it just as quickly and stormed out of the longhouse. Elli watched her go, unable to feel sorry.

“You handled that well,” Dina said as she took Sigrid’s place. Her face was split in a grin, and Elli wrinkled her nose at her.

“She bores me,” Elli admitted with a shrug.

Dina laughed and threw a piece of bread at Elli’s face. “You are far too self-important now, Elli Jósteinnsdóttir. How far do you plan on riding your single victory?”

Elli leaned forward and tapped the piece of meat on Dina’s knee. “As far as it will take me.”

Dina hummed and snatched the meat from her fingers. Elli growled and tried to take it back, but Dina kept pulling it further and further out of her reach.

“I am the Raven-Swift, little fox,” Dina laughed, “you will never catch me.”

With a wicked grin, Elli hooked her ankles around the legs of Dina’s chair and pulled. Their foreheads bumped together and Elli grabbed Dina’s wrist, holding it between them.

“Foxes are very clever,” Elli said, ripping the meat from her hand with her teeth, faking a snarl.

“Hmm,” Dina’s free hand reached up to the side of Elli’s skull and traced the lines of the tattoo that curved around the back of her ear, “so they are.” Her eyes seemed darker as they found Elli’s. Elli’s playful smile dropped slowly, distracted by the smell of mead on Dina’s breath, distracted by the way her lips parted slightly and her skin looked softer than a newborn lamb. 

“Mistletoe!”

The voice of a child cut through between them, both leaning back suddenly in their seats. A little blonde girl held a branch above their heads, a sprig of mistletoe dangling from its tip. Dina laughed and looked at the girl, shaking her head.

“Helga, that is a dirty trick to play,” Dina said, still laughing as she gathered the girl up in her arms and pulled her onto her lap. The branch fell to the ground. “You would truly make me kiss Elli? She is so stinky!”

The little girl giggled, and Elli stuck her tongue out at Dina. “If I stink, it’s only because I spend so much time around _you_.”

“What shall we call her?” Dina asked Helga, ignoring Elli’s jab. “Elli the Smelly?”

“Elli the Smelly!” Helga laughed, squirming her way out of Dina’s lap and running back to the other children, chanting, “Elli the Smelly!” as she went.

“You’re a terrible friend,” Elli said.

Dina smiled and stood from her seat. “Come, Elli the Smelly,” she held out her hand and nodded her head at the group of children, “come be our skald.”

Ellie shook her head, but like a tree in the winter winds she bent to Dina’s will and took her hand.

\--

On the first day of Jul, the beating of the drums echoed through the village and the sounds of dozens of voices singing mingled with the din. Elli watched as the chosen warriors carried the log through the village, people lining the streets to watch and cheer, following their path. As the crowd reached the longhouse, thralls opened the doors and the warriors carried to log right inside, depositing it onto the central hearth.

Elli leaned against a pillar with Dina, the two of them passing a wineskin back and forth as Thorsteinn made his obligatory speech about Jul and prosperity. From across the hearth, Elli caught Sigrid’s eye, her gaze harsh and wounded, and Elli looked away quickly.

“I think Sigrid is going to kill me,” Elli muttered.

Dina snorted and snatched the wineskin back. “I’d like to see her try.” A bit of wine spilled from the corner of her mouth as she drank. She cursed and wiped her chin on her sleeve.

“I think that’s enough for you.” Elli took the wineskin back and tossed it behind them.

The crowd began cheering, and the two of them joined in belatedly. It was muscle memory more than anything else that helped them in step with their clanmates as they made their way outside. Behind the longhouse, a huge boar was in a cage.

“That’s a big pig,” Dina hiccoughed. Elli snickered and stumbled over her feet, only managing to stay upright with the help of Dina’s arm.

“The gods will have to be pleased with that,” Elli said, “it’s bigger than me!”

They fell into silence as the holy men and women began the ritual. Their faces were painted with the fresh blood, drums and ringing chimes filling their ears. Elli felt a somber energy settle over her, and the smoke from the torches and pyres seemed to swirl into her vision. Creatures and faces took shape as the smoke lifted into the sky, silver against the stars.

Everyone lined up, and the high priestess walked the line with a bowl of the boar’s blood. Elli didn’t flinch as she was marked with a flick of the straw. She followed the procession back to the longhouse, the low and guttural voices of the skalds singing them home.

The feast seemed to last the whole night, although this late in the year it was hard to tell when daytime began and night ended. The sky never lightened, only the absence and presence of the moon could determine which it was. The skalds sang songs of battles and lovers, the plates upon the table seemed to never be empty. Elli drank her weight in mead, singing along with the skalds and dancing to their tunes.

When she finally collapsed in her bedchamber, the furs encapsulating her like a hug from a bear, her head was spinning. Or maybe the room was spinning, it was impossible to tell.

“Move over.”

She cracked her eye open and saw Dina standing above her. Elli grunted, but acquiesced, shuffling over and making room for the other woman.

“You have a home, you know.”

“Too far,” Dina mumbled, burrowing under the furs. Elli felt her back press against hers, impossibly warm. “Drank too much.”

“Stop moving.” Elli reached out behind her and patted Dina’s side. “And don’t steal the furs.”

Dina grabbed her hand and pulled with a determined strength that only a mead-filled body could have. Elli groaned as she was turned and tugged to rest on top of Dina. “You’re a fur.”

“You smell like wine,” Elli complained. It was a false complaint, of course, because the sweet smell of wine on Dina’s breath was more intoxicating than the drink itself had been.

Dina exhaled purposefully then, hot air flowing over Elli’s face. “Happy Jul, go to sleep.”

Any response she could have come up with died on her lips, and she settled against Dina’s body. The gentle rise and fall of Dina’s chest soothed Elli until she felt herself slip off into the dream realm.

\--

On the fifth day of Jul, Elli found herself walking through the woods. The celebrations of Jul were still running in full force, but there was enough of a reprieve today that she had been able to slip away from the village.

She followed the line of the frozen stream, winding through icy rocks and snow-covered trunks. Her boots made fresh prints in the wintery blanket. The sky was dark with the depth of winter, and the light from her torch cast long shadows across the white.

Her feet carried her until she reached a clearing, a mound of earth giving the snow rise. The tall stone across the mound wore a cap of white, and Elli took the time to clear it of snow. Her fingers traced the runes that were carved into the face of the stone, and she crouched beside it.

“Hello, father,” she said, her voice soft and low, “happy Jul.” From the pouch that hung from her belt, she pulled out a small handful of cured meat and honeyed bread. She scraped a hole in the snow at the base of the stone and carefully place the food there.

Wind whistled and gently rustled her hair.

“I’m sorry I didn’t come earlier,” she continued, “it’s been a busy winter.” Brushing some snow from a nearby rock, Elli sat back on it and pulled her fur cloak around her shoulders. “I feel this nervous excitement about the spring thaw. It will bring a new chance for raids, raids that I hope I will finally become a part of.”

She heard the creaking of branches and the rustle of bird wings.

“I fought well against Valdís and her beserkers.” She twisted the end of her cloak between her fingers. “You would have been proud, Jósteinn Jarl’s-Fist. I saved your brother’s life.”

Around her, the forest seems to hold its breath.

“I was always meant to be a warrior,” she said, “and you wanted so badly to keep me from that destiny. Dina says that she feared death, that dying in battle seemed frightening. Is that what you felt, in your last moments? Is that why you wanted to keep me safe so badly?” Her fingernails dig into the palm of her hands, and she takes a thin breath in through her teeth. “I do not fear death. I wish that everyone else would stop fearing it for me.”

A strong gust of wind kicked snow up into the air, stinging her cheeks. Elli squinted against it and wiped it from her skin.

“I will see you in Valhalla someday, father. And we shall feast together for all the days that follow.”

She touched the standing stone once more, tracing the name of her father where it was carved into the surface.

When she turned, a small, white fox was sitting at the other end of the burial mound. It stared at her, its head cocked to the side. Elli froze and stared back, the tattoo on the side of her head tingling as she held the animal’s gaze.

“What do you want?”

The fox twitched its ears and flicked its tail.

“Who sent you to me?”

A snap of a branch from behind the fox startled it, and it sprang to its feet, darting away into the trees.

“Wait!” Elli called out, her feet slipping against the snowy ground. The fox was gone, leaving behind small footprints in the snow. Elli cursed and kicked up some snow. She grabbed her axe and headed in the direction of the snapped branch she had heard. Her chest seemed to fill with some unbidden anger at the unknown being that had scared the fox away.

It was quickly replaced with fear as she locked eyes with the wolf.

It was thin, clearly winter-starved and desperate enough to come this close to the village. Elli gripped her axe and stared into the hollow yellow eyes. The wolf bared its teeth, snarling and snapping its jaws.

“I will not be your Jul feast, wolf,” Elli growled.

The animal lunged. Elli managed to dive out of the way, rolling off her shoulder in the snow to land on her feet. The wolf lunged again, its teeth grabbing the end of Elli’s cloak and tugging, pulling her closer and closer. She struggled with the leather tie, finally undoing it and freeing herself, the force of the release throwing her to the ground, snow padding her fall as her back hit the ground.

The wolf was on top of her in an instant. She lifted her left arm on instinct to block her face, but without a shield, the wolf merely dug its teeth into her flesh. Elli cried out, the sharp pain cutting through her body and flooding her with battle-rage. Her axe still in her other hand, Elli brought it up and hammered the blade against the wolf’s neck. Its grip on her arm was firm and unbreakable, warm blood coating her skin as it shook her arm in its jaws.

Finally, her axe bit deep enough through the wolf’s coat to hit skin, and blood seeped thickly into fur. The wolf loosened its grip and tried to back off, but Elli’s gaze burned red with blood and battle-lust. With the strength of Thor, she grabbed the wolf and finished the fight with another few swings of her axe.

She rose unsteadily to her feet, blood staining the snow around her. Her left arm was sticky with it, fresh blood still running from the pierced skin. The wolf lay still at her feet, smaller in death that it was in life.

“Foolish creature,” Elli mumbled. She knelt beside it and touched her hand to its fur. “Where was your pack?”

A throbbing pain in her arm reminded her of the grievous nature of her wounds, the fuel of battle ebbing like the tides. A slice of fabric ripped from her shirt and wrapped around her arm, Elli pulled her cloak back on and left the body of the wolf behind her as she followed the stream home.

\--

On the seventh day of Jul, Dina carefully redressed Elli’s arm. Elli hissed as the bandages were pulled tight, and Dina rolled her eyes.

“Oh, toughen up,” she teased.

“You have the touch of a warrior, not a healer,” Elli retorted.

“If you want gentle hands, maybe you should go back to Sigrid for help.” Dina’s smile was wolfish, and Elli punched her in the thigh.

“I hate you.”

Dina laughed and patted Elli’s cheek, “No, you don’t.”

“I do,” Elli said as they stood and walked through the curtain that separated Elli’s bedchamber from the rest of the longhouse, “and one day when _you_ are wounded, I will pour sea water in it and tell you it will help.”

“I’d like to see you try.” They sat by the hearth, the embers glowing heartily and warming their hands.

“Have you enjoyed the festival so far?” Elli asked the question and immediately winced at how juvenile it sounded.

Dina smiled and nodded, not seeming to notice Elli’s embarrassment. “I have. I missed home over the summer, the food and the mead, and,” she looked into the fire then, away from Elli’s face, “the people.”

“Do you have time to miss home, when you’re on a raid?” Elli searched out Dina’s eyes until she looks to her again. The flames danced as they reflected in her dark eyes, and Elli couldn’t help but stare.

“Most of our time is spent traveling,” Dina admitted, “or waiting. We fight only when there is something worth fighting for. Other raiding bands are less picky about who they attack, but it is not in my interest to kill innocent farmers.” The corner of her mouth lifted into a half-smile. “I spend a lot of time thinking about what you get up to back home.”

“Me?”

Dina bumped her knee forcefully against Elli’s. “Yes, you. You’re my…well, you’re my closest friend, Elli. I miss when we used to swim in the ocean, or pick berries in the woods.” Dina’s brow knitted together. “Do you not?”

“I don’t know,” Elli shrugged her shoulders and tugged her at fingers, “I have spent so much of my time think about what _you_ were doing on the raids, I think I forgot to remember.”

Dina slid closer on the bench, until their legs pressed together. Her hands untangled Elli’s fingers, fitting her own between Elli’s. Elli felt her heart in her throat, in her belly, in her toes, her whole body thrumming with some nervous energy at the warmth of Dina’s skin on hers.

“I wish you weren’t so eager to raid,” Dina mumbled. Elli frowned, watching more than feeling the way that Dina’s thumb traced small circles on the back of her hand. “I wish _I_ hadn’t been so eager.”

“But you’re a warrior,” Elli said, “you’re already leading a war-band of your own. What more could you want?”

Dina sighed and her thumb stilled, pressing warm and firm into the space between the bones of Elli’s hand. “It would be nice, I think,” she answered, and her voice was nearly lost to the crackle of the fire, “to swim in the ocean and pick berries.”

\--

On the tenth day of Jul, Elli woke up in a bed that was not her own.

A head of red hair peeked out from under the furs, and Elli sat up with a hand pressed to her forehead. The throbbing behind her eyes told her she had drank far too much wine the previous night. It’s the greatest folly of the Jul festivities – wine and ale flow endlessly, and no one wants to be the first to admit they’ve had enough.

Elli carefully removed the furs from her body, the cold air hitting her skin. Her clothing was in a pile on the floor, and she pulled it on as quietly as she could. There was a brush of pain as the sleeve of her thin undershirt grazed against her wounded arm.

“You’re leaving so soon?”

The woman had a raspy voice, and Elli turned to look at her sheepishly. Recognition dawned as she recognised the red-haired woman as a shield-maiden. She was a few winters older than Elli, Bóthildr if she remembered the name correctly.

“I have to help my uncle out with feast preparations,” and it was a lie, but Elli knew that playing the Jarl’s niece card was a sure way to make sure there were no questions.

“That’s too bad,” Bóthildr said, stretching her arms above her head with a feral grin, “I wasn’t finished with you.”

Elli coughed and pulled her tunic over her head. “I’m flattered, but I really must leave.” Bóthildr shrugged and waved her off as she rolled over. Elli pulled her boots over her feet and pushed her way through the door of the small cabin.

Snow was falling heavy from the dark winter sky. Elli shivered, cursing her drink-drowned brain from the night before for not bothering to bring her cloak with her. She trekked through the snow-filled streets, flakes gathering on her shoulders and hair.

The doors to the longhouse opened with a groan. Smoke flew out as snow flew in, the hall warm and quiet in the early morning hours. Elli found a flagon of water and drank nearly the entire thing in hopes it would dispel the dryness of her mouth and the pounding in her head.

“Elli!” Her uncle’s voice boomed from the end of the hall, where he was emerging from his chambers. Elli winced at the sound. “I am glad you’re here,” he approached as he pulled his cloak over his shoulders, “come, let us hunt together.”

“Uncle, I’m tired,” Elli tried to protest, but Thorsteinn waved her excuses off.

“Get your bow, I will wait by the western road,” Thorsteinn said. He brushed by her, gathering food into a sack. Elli sighed and shuffled off to her bed chambers. She changed her clothes quickly, pulling her still-torn cloak on and tightening the clasp. Her bow hung on the wall next to the quiver of arrows, fletched with the feathers of hawks and ravens.

Her fingers traced the carvings in the yew wood. She closed her eyes and remembered how her father’s hands had shaped the wood, bent it and strung it, carved the designs into it at her bequests; wolves and ravens, bears and foxes, leaves and runes. The work was fine, long, painstaking, and when it was through, he had taken Elli to the archery range and taught her to shoot.

She found Thorsteinn at the western road. He greeted her with a smile, and they walked. Elli fought back nausea as they hiked through the woods, her stomach turning from mead-sickness.

They came through a dense patch of forest into a clearing. As she recognised it, Elli swallowed down some rising bile. A few lengths away lay the corpse of the lone wolf, snow stained a dark brown from the old blood.

“This is the wolf you killed?” Thorsteinn asked, and their feet crunched the snow as they neared the body.

“Yes,” Elli said. The smell of decaying flesh reached her nostrils, and she gave in to the nausea, bending over and expelling the contents of her stomach onto the ground. Thorsteinn watched her with a wrinkled nose, and Elli wiped her mouth on her sleeve. “Sorry.”

“You are not the first warrior to indulge too deeply in the barrel,” Thorsteinn assured her. He kicked some snow over her vomit. Stepping over the pile, he lifted the wolf’s head and pulled out his knife. “Come, Elli. His pelt should be yours before it spoils.”

She knelt beside her uncle and took out her own knife. She cut where she had been taught to cut, freeing the pelt from the body. The blood didn’t flow, the heart long-since still. Elli rolled the fur and strapped it to her back with her quiver. The naked form of the once-great predator was covered with snow and left to freeze.

“Come,” Thorsteinn said, “we continue the hunt.”

They hunted until the moon began to rise, hardly speaking to each other. Bags laden with kills - small game like rabbits and birds - Elli and Thorsteinn arrived back at the village. Their prey was taken by thralls to be cleaned for the coming feast, the wolf pelt taken to be cleaned and tanned. Thorsteinn left Elli with a strong hand on her shoulder, heading through the streets to the longhouse.

Elli walked the other way, winding through narrower alleys and smaller streets. People passed her by, nodding their heads in greetings that she paid no attention to. The smell of small fires escaping through rooves and the scent of the cold air filled her every breath, hints of cooking food tingeing the edges of the air. Her feet carried her to a familiar house, small and wooden like the rest. The skull of a raven sat above the door.

“Dina,” Elli called out, banging her fist on the door, “Dina, are you there?”

There’s a rustling from inside, and Dina opened the door a moment later. Her hair is loose, her cheeks flushed as she pulls a large fur around her shoulders. Elli didn’t miss the flash of bare skin under the fur, and her stomach dropped.

“Elli,” Dina sounded out of breath, and she tucked her hair back behind her ear, “do you need something?”

Elli shook her head. “No, I’m sorry.” She peered past Dina into the house. “I didn’t realise you were-”

“I’m not,” Dina said, looking over her shoulder, “or, I am, but Knútr was just leaving.”

“Knútr?” Elli couldn’t help the venom she put into the man’s name. “Since when have you even tolerated Knútr?” She felt white hot rage seep into her blood, and she balled her hands into fists.

“He’s much more tolerable when he’s not talking.” Dina reached out to Elli, but Elli stepped back. “Elli, you can’t be upset.” Her brow furrowed, a strand of hair falling loose to hang at the side of her face.

“Dina?” Knútr’s voice came from inside.

“I’m not upset,” Elli protested.

“You shared Bóthildr’s bed last night.” Dina leaned against the doorframe.

“Exactly,” Elli said, scuffing the toe of her boot on the frozen earth, “so I’m not upset.”

Dina sighed and looked up to the sky. “Will I see you at the feast tonight?”

Elli didn’t answer, instead turning and walking away. She heard Dina call out after her, but she closed her ears to her voice. Her blood simmered hot under her skin, her hands flexing as she walked. She could feel and hear the bloodrush, the pounding of her heartbeat.

She stormed through the longhouse to her bed chamber. Her bow and quiver were tossed onto the bed. A coursing of anger ran through her throat and she let it out in a shout, grabbing her hunting knife and driving its blade into the nearby post.

If her uncle hadn’t taken her hunting.

If she hadn’t lost her mind to drink the previous night.

If she had been brave enough any other night.

Then what?

She pulled her knife from the wood with a grunt. Her hands shook as she sheathed it, and Elli knew the answer deep in her gut, the twisting of cowardice like a hot blade.

\--

On the twelfth day of Jul, Dina found Elli at the edge of the ocean. Ice covered the bay, not yet thick enough to walk upon. She sat next to her on the rock, and Elli stared straight ahead.

“You’ve been avoiding me.”

Elli shrugged.

“You aren’t being fair, Elli.”

“What is fair?” Elli asked the sea. It gave no response.

“Here,” Dina held out a wrapped package, “happy Jul, Elli.”

Elli took it and looked into those familiar eyes. Dina offered a small smile before she stood and left Elli alone.

She traced her fingers over the cloth wrapping, picking at the leather strips that held it together. Elli looked over her shoulder at Dina’s retreating figure, framed by the delicately falling snow. Every fibre of her being wanted to still feel anger, to want to fight with Dina and yell at her for being so…

But instead, she felt only regret as the shield-maiden walked away from her. The same feeling she’d felt for every glance she’d spared Dina over the past days.

The wrapping fell away onto frozen sand.

It was stack of papers, bound in leather. Elli frowned and opened it, her hands taking on a delicate quality as they flipped each page. There was some foreign script on the pages, images of strange looking people in bright, vivid colour.

It was beautiful.

That night, Elli found Dina at the feast. The gift was tucked into her belt, hidden under a loose tunic.

“Dina,” she muttered under the sound of chatter, “can we talk?”

Dina looked at where Elli’s hand rested on her elbow and nodded. Elli led the way, and they wound through the crowd, dodging staggering bodies and dripping tankards. Elli’s grip was tight on Dina’s wrist.

They stood face to face on the dock, moonlight and Valkyrie armour lighting their faces.

Elli reached under her tunic and pulled the bound pages out. “What is this?”

“It’s a book,” Dina crossed her arms over her chest. “I thought you might…I thought it was beautiful, that you might like it.”

“I can’t read it,” Elli said. The corner of her mouth twitched up in a wry smile.

“I know that,” Dina retorted, rolling her eyes at Elli, “but I thought you just might like to…look at it.” She laughed and bit her bottom lip. “Maybe that was stupid.”

“It wasn’t stupid.” Elli closed the book and tucked it back into her belt. “Thank you. It is really...beautiful.” Her eyes flitted to Dina’s, shining in the moonlight in a way that stopped Elli’s breath in her chest.

Dina’s arms wrapped around her shoulders and their bodies collided in a fierce hug. Hair tickled Elli’s nose, the press of the book trapped between their bodies. She could feel every rise and fall of Dina’s chest, could hear every beat of her own heart.

“I cannot wait to show you England,” Dina murmured. Her breath was warm where it hit Elli’s skin.

Elli tucked her face into Dina’s shoulder. Her hands fisted the material of Dina’s shirt.

“I’ll follow you every step of the way.”

_end part 2_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you!


	4. Part III - Chapter I

_Spring_

Elli heaved the contents of her stomach over the side of the longship. The ship rocked side to side, tossed ruthlessly by the ocean waves. She sank down against the hull, tucking her head between her knees and groaning.

“You look like shit.” Dina sat beside her and bumped their bent knees together with a cheeky grin.

“I look better than you,” Elli mumbled.

“Not possible,” Dina retorted, “I’ve been blessed by Freyja herself.”

Elli opened her mouth to fire back, but all that came out instead was a belch. Dina burst into laughter, a splash of seawater coming up over the gunnels and dousing them both. “Shut up.”

“One more day, Elli,” Dina reassured her, “one more day and we’ll set your feet onto a solid land of new riches and adventures.”

The journey was long and arduous, the gods rocking the ship with violent waves and deadly winds. Elli had tried to keep her stomach inside, but by the second day, she had emptied its contents into the sea over and over again. The other warriors had clapped her on the back and given her pitying looks. Sickness of the sea was not an unusual affliction among first-time sailors.

The fourth day brought calmer waters, clearer skies, and the sight of land in the distance. The floating army closed in on the shore, dropping sails and rowing to beach the ships.

The sand in England felt no different to the sand at home. That was the first thing Elli noticed. The air smelled of salt and fish, same as home.

But the grass on the cliffs and the colour of the sky, those were different. The shape of the clouds and the sound of the wind.

“Welcome to England,” Dina said from where she stood at Elli’s side. “Grab your axe, we need to make sure there are no soldiers lying in wait.”

They hiked up the cliffs, the grass up to their waists. Their scouting group was small, only five shield-maidens. Dina led them all, and Elli found herself trying to copy the other woman’s stance and the way her steps made almost no sound.

Dina raised her hand. They all froze, not moving until Dina dropped to her stomach and began crawling forward to the edge of the hill. Each warrior followed suit. The grass tickled at Elli’s face.

Down the sheer hill, Elli saw the group of English soldiers in their foreign armour sitting around a fire. Their voices carried unintelligibly on the wind.

“Tóvi, Ingrid, Áile,” Dina whispered, “you go around the left. Stay hidden, do not let them know you are there. Elli and I will circle behind. When you see my arrow fly, that is when you strike.” The three women nodded, silently leaving Dina and Elli on the hill.

Dina turned her head and looked at Elli. Elli stared back, and Dina quirked the corner of her mouth into a smirk.

“Are you ready to kill some Christians?”

Elli grinned.

They crept slowly through the grass, giving the soldiers a wide berth. Elli could hear them more clearly now, their language strange and their voices harsh. There was a burning in her chest, a hot ball that lit her with anger.

She hated them.

She hated them and their foreign tongue. She hated their weak god.

Dina halted her and they took cover behind a large boulder.

“How many men are there?” Dina asked her.

Elli peered around the stone. “Ten that I can see.”

“And how many that you cannot see?”

“If I could see them, then I would know.”

Dina rolled her eyes and peeked over the boulder. “Look at their camp, Elli. Ten men sit at the fire, but there are far more bedrolls and bowls.” Dina leaned up against the boulder and placed her hand on Elli’s arm, coaxing her back into cover. “The most dangerous enemy is the one you never see.”

Elli nodded. “So, where are they?”

“I do not know.” Dina grabbed her bow and ran a finger along the string. “We kill these men swiftly, and then we try to pick up the trail. One of our other scouting parties may have already found them, but at least we know that they are out there somewhere.” She knocked an arrow and drew it back halfway, crouching to step out from behind the boulder.

The arrow landed in the neck of an Englishman.

Elli drew her axe and hefted her shield, letting out a battle-cry as she rushed into the camp.

They didn’t fight like the Norse did. Their swords were held in weaker arms, caught unawares. They fought defensively, unsure in their strikes and their blocks.

It felt too easy.

Pulling her axe from the chest of the final soldier, Elli wiped his blood on the grass. Dina was rifling through the clothing of another dead man, the other warriors having taken up the trail of the missing men.

“What are you looking for?” Elli asked. “These men don’t seem like they would have anything of value on them.” She used her foot to turn one over, his covered in dirt and blood.

“English soldiers carry orders of their king,” Dina explained, “that will tell us whose kingdom we have landed in. And what these men were doing here.” She sighed and sat back on her heels, looking up at Elli. “Are you going to help me?”

“Right,” Elli mumbled. She felt the heat of embarrassment in her cheeks. Grabbing the nearest soldier, she began searching through the layers of his clothing. The armor was strange, a thick wool jacket over linked metal. Hardly even enough protection to stop a well-shot arrow.

Everything about this land was strange. Elli felt like a child, learning the rules of the world over again. Dina was endlessly patient, already teaching her something new every time she spoke.

The niece of the jarl should not be so inexperienced.

Her fingers closed around a piece of paper. “Dina, I think I found something.” She pulls the paper from the man’s clothing and stood up. Dina was at her side in an instant, gently taking the scroll from Elli’s hand.

“This,” she pointed at a circle of red wax that sealed the paper, “is the symbol of the King of Northumbria.” Dina smiled and traced her fingers over it. “We are in the north of England.”

“Is that good?”

Dina shrugged. “There are monasteries here, with much gold and treasure. The kingdom is large in land, but small in men. They fight against the Picts of the North at one end of their territory, and the neighbouring kingdom of Mercia to the south.” She folded the paper and tucked it into her tunic. Her eyes scanned Elli’s face, and she reached a hand up.

She froze as Dina wiped her thumb just above her brow.

“Blood,” Dina explained.

Elli’s breath felt short in her chest. An overwhelming urge to step forward and pull Dina into her body was thrumming under her skin.

“Should we get back to the ships?”

“Right.” Dina stepped back and Elli watched her chest rise and fall as she took a deep breath. “Let’s go.”

The war-bands were gathered on the beach, shipwrights checking hulls and warriors tending to their weapons. Dina left Elli by their ship, heading through the crowd to find the other leaders and discuss their next move.

It seemed to take forever for a decision to be reached. From where Elli sat, perched on the prow of the ship, she watched as Dina and the five other leading warriors argued. Three men and two other women, all older and taller than Dina, with more scars and eyes hardened from hundreds of battles.

Dina was small, but even from where she sat, lengths away and out of earshot, Elli could see the respect and authority that the young shield-maiden commanded.

“Hey!”

Elli snapped out of her thoughts. On the beach below, a wiry man was glaring up at her.

“What?”

The man pointed his sword at her. “Get down from there.”

“Why?” Elli challenged. He wasn’t someone she recognised. The bits of green cloth that peeked out from his armour identified him as a member of Jarl Dagrún’s clan, hailing from the south.

“Because you haven’t earned that place,” he spat at her, and Elli laughed.

“And who are you to say that?” She swung her legs back and forth in the air.

“I am Alfarr,” he shouted up to her, “son of the great Hálfdan the Wright! He built the boat you sit upon, you ignorant little girl, and I will take your legs from your body unless you come down from there!”

Elli grinned and leaned forward. “I would like to see you reach me from all the way down there.” She looked around and noticed the eyes of the warriors who watched their exchange with interest. In the distance, she could see Dina still engaged in the heated discussion with her fellow leaders.

A stone flew by her head and missed her by a hand’s-length.

She fixed her glare on Alfarr and sneered. “You throw like a child.” Another stone came at her, and she managed to dodge to the side just in time. The move threw her off her balance, and she felt the ground hit her side before she realised she had fallen.

“And you fell like a bird too young to fly,” Alfarr said, standing over her with a smug smirk. Elli growled and pushed herself to her feet, shaking out her shoulder. She unstrapped her shield and dropped it in the sand, her axe following suit. Alfarr copied her, and as his sword hit the ground, Elli flew at him.

Their fellow warriors cheered and jeered as they fought, wrestling in the wet sand. A knee to her gut, an elbow in his ribs. The impact of a hand against her nose, the imprint of his face in the dirt. Elli could taste blood in her mouth, and it lit the fire of battle in her chest.

“What the fuck is this?”

Strong hands grabbed Elli by the back of her tunic, hauling her out of the fight like a misbehaving kitten. As the haze of the fight cleared, Elli saw Alfarr on the ground, his face bloodied as he lay there groaning. A glance at her hands showed her the split skin on her knuckles and the slick, red blood. The hands let go of her and she regained her footing, her head spinning slightly.

Halvard, jarl of the Bear Clan, was standing before her, staring down at her from under bushy grey eyebrows. His equally large, grey beard was turned in a frown, the small braids dangling as he shook his head.

“We haven’t even been here half a day, and already you’re fighting amongst yourselves like little children?” His voice was deep and gravelly. Elli lowered her head in shame. She watched him lift Alfarr to his feet. The smaller man swayed dangerously on the spot, but managed to stumble away into the crowd. “Fucking embarrassing, the lot of you.”

Elli felt the crushing feeling of disappointment splash over her like seawater, bringing her to her senses. Being told off by Halvard the Dauntless, Thor’s champion, perhaps one of the most famous warriors of their time…it filled her with an ocean of shame.

“Get on your ships,” Halvard commanded, “we are rowing to the mouth of the Tyne. The swan road awaits us.” He spared Elli one more glance, his lip curling. She turned away and grabbed her shield and axe from the sand, hopping over the gunnel of the ship and taking her seat at the oars.

As they pushed off the shore, Elli caught Dina’s eye.

The disappointment she found there hurt a hundred times more than any words Halvard could have said.

\--

England was wet.

It rained every day, and yet Thor never seemed to run out of water to dump on the warriors.

Some days it poured, like the entire ocean was being emptied onto their heads.

Other days, the rain fell light and hardly noticeable until it had been five minutes, and Elli was soaked through to her very core.

All the rain meant the mood throughout the camp was foul. Arguments could be heard breaking out across the clearing over every little thing. Elli had seen more than a few tussles break out, the guilty parties covered in mud as they grappled with each other.

Dina hadn’t lied when she said most of raiding was waiting around for something to do. Scouting parties had been sent out day after day, trying to get the lay of the land.

Everyone was bored, wet, and miserable.

On a particularly rainy night, Elli was lying under her small canopy, listening to the drops hit the cloth above her. She had set up her bedroll at the edge of the camp, not wanting to feel trapped and surrounded by people at all hours of the day. She had nestled herself between the giant roots of a tall tree, the leaves providing some sense of shelter from the dreary weather.

“Mind if I join you?”

Elli opened her eyes and turned her head. Dina was there, standing at the edge of Elli’s little tent. She looked tired, her armour discarded somewhere, a wine-coloured tunic hanging loose around her form.

Elli shuffled over and patted the fur beside her. “Welcome to my humble home.” Dina smiled and laid down beside her, their shoulders pressing together.

“So,” Dina sighed as she settled in, “are you enjoying the raid so far?”

“You never told me England was so wet.”

Dina laughed at that, turning on her side and draping an arm across Elli’s stomach.

Elli felt her heart beating in her gut. Dina’s breath hit the side of her face.

“It will dry out,” she assured, “in a few weeks.”

Elli groaned and turned her head. Her nose missed Dina’s by a hairsbreadth.

Her voice came out rough, “And we will just sit here getting soft until then?”

She heard, or imagined, a hitch in Dina’s breath that matched her own. Her body felt like it was on fire, her heart in her gut and her throat all at once, her chest ready to explode.

“You have to find ways to stay busy,” Dina murmured. Her eyes seemed darker than usual, and Elli watched her gaze flick down momentarily, before it sought out Elli’s own again.

“How do you stay busy?” Elli’s mouth was dry, and the words felt like they stuck to her tongue before they left her lips.

“Well, I’m a very important person,” Dina said, an edge of teasing in her voice, “I have many decisions to make.” She lifted her hand to the side of Elli’s head, gently brushing her fingers against the short hair that was beginning to grow back. “You need to shave this back.”

“Is that one of your important decisions?” Elli swallowed the fear and the nerves that were trying to fly from her stomach, shifting forward slightly until her legs pressed against Dina’s.

Dina laughed, short and breathy, her eyes boring into Elli’s. Elli watched Dina’s tongue dart out and wet her lips, her teeth taking its place as she seemed to consider her answer.

Elli placed her hand on Dina’s waist, and it felt like it weighed like a chest full of gold, her heart desperately trying to break out of her ribs. Something about the air, the rhythmic tapping of the rain above them, the way the breeze blew gentle and rustled the leaves in the trees, something about all of that brought a deep hypnosis over Elli.

A sense of calm she didn’t know lived within her.

She pushed against Dina’s back until they were flush together, only their heads held back as their breaths mingled in the damp air.

“Elli,” Dina whispered, and Elli had never heard her name said with so much reverence, like a private prayer to the gods. Dina’s hand curved to hold the back of Elli’s head, pressing forward until their foreheads met.

Elli lost her breath to the wind.

A loud moan cut through the quiet night, and the two of them startled back.

“What was that?” Elli propped herself up on her elbow and peered into the darkness over Dina.

Dina rolled onto her back. Another moan hit the air, this one higher in pitch.

“Oh,” and Dina snorted in laughter, “someone found a way to stay busy.”

Elli frowned, and then it hit her. She laughed and laid back on the furs, throwing an arm across her eyes. “They do sound like they’re having fun.” The moaning continued, two voices mixing together.

“Shut the fuck up!” Someone else yelled from somewhere in the camp.

Elli and Dina burst into laughter, the tension that sat between them only moments before having completely vanished.

The nerves lifted off of Elli and left her feeling empty.

\--

They were to split into two groups. Halvard had announced the plan that morning, the first morning where there wasn’t a cloud in the sky. Elli had stood shoulder to shoulder with her shield-brothers and sisters, listening to the plan their leaders had finally agreed upon.

Elli would follow Dina, Halvard, and Jarl Ingimárr south to Mercia. There were many inland cities and river-ports, as well as monasteries and other places of Christian worship to be pillaged.

Her small set-up was easily taken down and packed onto the longship. She took her place at the oars and they began traveling down the waterways of England.

The rivers here were lined with reeds and rushes. Birds took flight from the ships as they disrupted the waters. The sun beat down on the warriors, drying their hair for the first time in what felt like an eternity. It grew so warm that they all had to remove their outer layers, rolling up sleeves to catch the light on their skin. The river carried them onwards, never fighting against their strokes.

England welcomed them with open arms.

“Armour on,” Dina commanded from her perch at the stern of the ship, pointing her axe towards a hill in the distance. Elli turned to look over her shoulder.

High on the hill, a tower of stone stood against the sun. At its peak, the sun glinted off of something shiny and metallic. All down the hill, smaller buildings dotted the landscape. The wind carried the faintest sounds of a town to Elli’s ears.

When she turned back, Dina’s eyes were on her.

“Well-spotted, Raven-Swift,” Elli called out to her with a grin. Dina smirked back.

The ships were beached a little ways upstream of the monastery. The warriors donned their weapons and armour, pulling reeds over the ships to hide them from passersby. Elli gripped her axe, following the steps of the warriors in front of her through the shallow waters. Following the shore, they waded silently through the river.

Until the horn sounded, and the war-band rushed onto the land.

Elli yelled with her brethren, banging her axe against her shield, ready to spill Christian blood upon the soil of this foreign land. Her eyes searched for soldiers.

All she found were cowering townsfolk.

They screamed and ran from the group of Norsemen, their fear so tangible Elli could taste it on the air. They ran into their homes, shrieking in terror as warriors broke from the band and burst through their doors. Elli followed suit, breaking down the door of a small wooden hut. A woman shrunk into the corner, sobbing and clutching her children to her sides.

Elli payed them no mind. She rifled through baskets, turned over the table, looking for anything of value.

Nothing.

“Elli!” Dina called her name from the door. “Elli, come. There is nothing in these homes, they are only peasants.” Elli nodded and followed Dina, out the door and up the hill. The warriors had regrouped, and as one, they strode up the hill.

Halvard stopped at the head of the group. “Shield wall!”

The warriors snapped together, shields fitting together like the scales of a dragon.

“Forward!”

Elli fell into step.

The first arrow hit her shield with a thump.

The second, third, and fourth came soon after.

“Forward!”

All the war-band kept moving, their shields held up to block the onslaught of the archers.

“Push!”

The shield wall broke, and the fight began.

Elli pierced the chest of a soldier with the blade of her axe, breaking through his armour easily.

A blade nicked her arm. She whirled and struck out with her shield, slamming it into the face of another soldier. He stumbled and fell to the ground. The shield crushed his skull before he could try to stand.

“Elli, with me!”

She followed the sound of Dina’s voice to a stone building, leaping over the fallen and bloodied bodies. Dina waved her over to the door of the building.

“Together.”

The door flew open under their combined strength.

Men in brown robes hid behind benches, making strange gestures with their hands and mumbling stranger words.

Dina grabbed one of the men by his collar and dragged him to the front of the building, where the floor was slightly raised. Elli stood a few feet away, mesmerised by the battle-lust in Dina’s eyes.

“Where is the treasure?” She said, throwing the man down against the stone floor.

“Requiem aeternum dona eis, Domine,” the man whimpered.

Dina grabbed him by the front of his robes and shook him, blood dripping from her forehead. “I don’t have time for your prayers, old man!”

The doors were slammed shut, more of their warriors coming in and posturing at the Christians, baring their teeth and brandishing their blades.

“Et lux perpetua luceat eis.”

The blade of Dina’s knife pressed against his throat, and Elli scoffed as tears ran down the man’s face. “Why do you not just kill him already?”

“Quiet,” Dina snapped. Elli stepped back, taken aback by the sharp order of Dina’s tone. A thin line of blood ran down the man’s neck from where her blade presses against his skin. “I will ask you one more time, you Christian fool.” She leaned in close to his face and narrowed her eyes. “Where is your treasure?”

Elli watched the man’s face carefully. She followed the flitting of his gaze to the altar. Keeping her eyes on him, she began walking towards it. The man whimpered as she neared the table of worship.

“Dina,” Elli said, “should there not be something on this table?” She trailed the blade of her axe along the top of the altar, scraping a line in the wood.

Dina looked over her shoulder and grinned, feral and unnerving. Keeping a tight grip on the man, her knife still pressed to his throat, she dragged him to the altar.

“Fidelium animae, per misericordiam Dei,” the man cried, struggling against Dina. She growled at him and slammed him into the altar, pressing him back until he cried out in pain, bent backwards over the table.

“Do you wish to die upon the altar of your god?” Dina asked him, leaning over him and sneering. “Shall I slay you here, leave your body to rot upon this holy table?”

Elli crouched down and knocked on the wood that lined the altar’s sides. “Hollow.” She stood and gripped her axe, swinging it low against the wood until it splintered and fell away. Dina watched her from where she still held the man at the end of her blade, chest heaving with heavy breaths. Elli reached inside.

Her hand closed around something cool and smooth.

From the altar, she pulled a golden cross.

Dina grinned.

“Thank you for your help.”

His blood stained the altar as his body slid to the floor.

Elli tossed the cross to Dina, who caught it and held it up for all their shield-kin to see. She cheered, a dozen voices joining her.

She turned back to Elli, their eyes catching each other’s gaze.

“Well done,” Dina said, her voice low and rough.

Elli reached back under the altar and pulled out a twisted candelabra, lifting it and tapping it against the cross that Dina still carried. “There will be more.” She looked over Dina’s shoulder at the remaining Christians. “And they will call for help.”

Something uncertain flickered in Dina’s eyes. “Elli.”

“They cannot be allowed to leave.”

Dina sighed, passing the cross to one of the warriors that had come to help gather the spoils. She stepped down from the raised floor, not breaking eye contact with Elli. “We will barricade them in,” she ordered. “Hurry and get the treasure. There is more to be found elsewhere.”

Elli nodded, stepping back from the altar to allow her fellow warriors to take over the collection. She followed Dina through the room, lunging at a cowering man with a snap of her teeth.

“I did not think they would be so cowardly,” Elli commented to Dina as they jogged further into the compound, their eyes set on the largest building.

“They are not warriors,” Dina said, “they are the holy men of the Christians. They are no threat to us.” She tucked her axe into her belt and stepped through the broken doorway.

The building opened up into a massive hall. Elli couldn’t help but stare. Beams and arches decorated the ceiling, massive columns lined the walls. Light streamed through coloured glass, casting the room in an unearthly dance of sunlight.

At the front of the room, Halvard and Jarl Ingimárr were standing at the altar, Christians gathered in a huddle at their feet, surrounded by blood-soaked warriors. Behind them, more warriors loaded up chests and sacks with treasure.

“You’re late,” Halvard said with a twitch of his beard.

Dina swept her arms in a playful bow, “I was busy clearing the battlefield so that you could stroll so easily to the treasure, Halvard.”

His laugh was booming, echoing grandly in the stone hall.

“And you brought the brawling whelp with you,” he said, pointing his sword at Elli.

“This is-”

“I am Elli, niece of Jarl Thorsteinn and daughter of Jósteinn Jarl’s-Fist,” Elli interrupted.

“Are you?” Halvard scratched his beard and narrowed his eyes. “I would have thought that the daughter of the great Jósteinn Jarl’s-Fist would be taller.”

“And I thought the great champion of Thor wouldn’t be an old man,” Elli snipped back. Her chest thrummed with nerves, but she steeled herself, refusing to show any hint of weakness to the man before her.

Halvard scanned her with his stony eyes. He stepped forward, walking around the group of Christians and stopping before her, his chest even with her eyes.

A strong hand clapped down on her shoulder, and again his laughter rang out. “Elli Jósteinnsdóttir,” he said, “I like your spirit.” He looked at Dina and nodded. “We will talk when we celebrate today’s victory around the fires.”

“For now,” Jarl Ingimárr spoke up from where she lounged on the altar, “we have decisions to make.” She waved a lazy hand at the captured men and sighed. “What do we do with them?”

“Kill them,” Halvard said with a shrug, “why leave them alive? The world does not need more Christians in it.”

“They are no threat,” Dina argued, “it would not be honourable to kill them.”

“I do not care,” Ingimárr said, “just get it over with.”

“They are loose ends,” Halvard crouched in front of a thin man, lifting his chin with his finger, “but they could be useful as slaves.” The Christian man whimpered, trying to bend his head back from Halvard’s grip.

“We do not have room for this many slaves,” Dina sat down on one of the benches, wiping a smear of blood from her cheek. “Halvard, we do not need them. Their treasure will be plenty.”

Halvard sighed and dropped the man’s chin. “Very well. They will live to be cowards another day.”

Elli took a seat next to Dina and exhaled heavily. “He is not as frightening as I thought he would be.”

Dina scoffed, “Just wait.” She rested her hand on Elli’s knee and squeezed. “This was hardly a battle, Elli. Halvard is only beginning to stretch his sword-arm. I would not be so trusting of him just yet.” She stood and offered Elli her hand. “Come. There are many hiding places in these churches, and my arms do not yet feel heavy with gold.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Early post for my good friend ehefic (go check them out if you haven't already) as a little holiday gift!
> 
> Happy holidays to everyone, stay safe and healthy!


	5. Part III - Chapter II

_Summer_

Elli pulled her axe from a Saxon’s skull. Blood dripped from the blade, thick and brilliant in the afternoon sun. Up ahead, she saw Halvard snap a man’s neck, tossing the limp body aside. Soliders scrambled to escape from the mountain of a man. The army of Norse and Danes swarmed them before they could make it more than a few lengths away.

In the months that had passed since their landing in England, Elli had felt herself grow stronger and wiser in battle. With the end of the spring rains and the beginning of the summer, their army had spent nearly every day in some sort of battle. Halvard had taken Elli under his wing, allowing her to join the strategy sessions and learn the ways of battle-planning.

They had taken a small town not too long ago, and Jarl Ingimárr had taken it upon herself to begin turning it into a defensive settlement. Dina had offered her help, and so Elli and Halvard had taken up leading the combined war-bands.

Elli had not understood, and still didn’t, why Dina would choose to stay behind from the fighting. It had led to an argument between the two of them. Even now, as Elli easily deflected a sword off her shield, she could see the ice in Dina’s eyes as she had called her a coward.

The memory turned her stomach.

Blood sprayed her face as she struck another Saxon down, shaking her from her thoughts. She couldn’t afford to be distracted in battle. She pushed her way through the fight, her feet slipping on the blood-soaked earth as she fought her way to the front.

“Come, Jósteinnsdóttir!” Halvard shouted, slamming his hammer down and eliciting a spray of gore. “Take their cathedral with me!”

The call spurred her on, her legs working overtime to reach the man. They fought side by side up to the cathedral. It was different than fighting next to Dina; Halvard was a wild fighter, his swings broad and powerful. More often than not, Elli felt like she was dodging his blows, not those of her enemies.

She missed the feeling of Dina’s shoulder next to hers, of their strikes and blocks matching up in perfect harmony. She missed knowing that, without any uncertainty, no harm could come to her if Dina was at her side.

The cathedral was huge, made of a tan stone. Arches and coloured windows decorated the outside. The doors were a solid wood, decorated with iron vines. Elli slammed her shoulder against them, but they held firm. Even Halvard’s weight wasn’t enough to break them in.

“Find us a way in,” Halvard ordered.

Elli took off around the side of the building. The windows were fortified with iron cages – clearly, this town had been prepared for an attack. Out of frustration, Elli smashed the glass anyways. She peered inside and saw a group of cowering townsfolk.

She let out a war cry, laughing as they all started to scream.

“Cowards,” she mumbled to herself.

She made the round of the building, but found no open windows, no unbarred door. Pride would not let her return to Halvard without a way forward. Examining the side of the cathedral, she ran her fingers along the ruts in the stonework.

There was a rustle in the bushes.

From between the green leaves, a red fox poked its head out.

“I must be on the right path,” Elli said. The fox blinked at her, tilting its head. Tossing her helm aside, Elli hooked her fingertips into a higher gap, and lifted her leg to fit her toes in another. It would be treacherous, but all her childhood years of climbing mountains had prepared her. She pulled herself up, reaching for the bottom of a window.

She hung from one arm as the other punched through the glass. Her palm stung as she felt the bite of the remaining shards, wrapping her fingers around the iron caging. She held on tightly, using her legs to ease her way up.

The lower roof was only a few arm lengths away, and Elli grunted as she made the final reaches. She collapsed onto her back, the hot tile of the roof burning the back of her head.

Rolling onto her stomach, she pushed herself to her knees and looked down at the ground. The fox was sitting there, staring back at her.

“Thank you, friend.”

The windows here were uncaged, and large enough for Elli to climb through. She stood on the wooden balcony, staring down at the cowering Saxons. They were huddled together like sheep, all whimpering and shaking as Halvard pounded on the door.

Elli climbed over the railing and slid down a banner. She had seen stairs, but the fear in the villagers’ eyes was worth the risk of the banner ripping.

One brave, foolish old man tried to rush Elli. She knocked him aside easily, sending him flying against a wooden bench. She strode past the group of cowering townspeople, baring her teeth at them. Halvard pounded on the door like he was beating a drum. The blood on her face was drying, she could feel it cracking on her skin, and she knew she cut a formidable figure. A terrifying Norse, covered in the blood of their brethren.

“Halvard!” She shouted through the door. “I’m going to open the door, so stop trying to break in for one fucking second!”

“Hold for Elli!”

The heavy plank of wood that barred the door was enormous. Elli summoned all the strength in her body, lifting it one end at a time until it hit the ground. She pushed it away and returned to the doors.

They opened with a mighty groan.

Elli stood aside as warriors spilled in, their eyes wide as they searched for treasure. Halvard stood next to her, directing the men and women to the back of the cathedral.

“Well done, Elli,” he said, clapping her on the shoulder. She nearly stumbled beneath the force of his praise. “How did you get in?”

“I climbed,” she answered, trying to sound as unbothered by it as possible. Her axe pointed up to the broken window.

Halvard let out a booming laugh. “How do you think of such things, Elli Jósteinnsdóttir?”

Elli shrugged, unsure if Halvard would mock her for taking the advice of a fox. “I must be very cunning.”

He laughed again. “You must be blessed by Loki himself.” With a hand on her shoulder, he steered them towards the center of the cathedral. A pile of treasure was beginning to accumulate at the altar of the Christian god. Elli picked through it; bejeweled crosses, stamped coins, glittering stones. She spotted a small figurine of a bird, carved from a blue stone. Making sure no one was looking, she stuffed it under her armor.

“Jarl Halvard, Elli,” a slender warrior approached them, her eyes a shock of blue against the dirt and blood that covered her face, “you should come see this.”

They followed the shield-maiden through the cathedral, their footsteps echoing as they drew further away from the sounds of looting and crying Saxons. She led them down a flight of stone steps to low-ceilinged cavern rooms beneath the cathedral. Torchlight helped illuminate the dusty stone walls and floor, and Elli grabbed one from its perch.

“In the back,” the shield-maiden instructed. Elli held the torch aloft for Halvard.

Along the back wall were great wooden casks. Each stood as high as Elli’s ribs, and she leaned in to inspect the strange writing on the lids.

“What is this?” She asked Halvard, who was peering at the barrels. He waved for her to give him more light, and she obliged, bringing the torch down to the top of the barrel he was inspecting.

A smile cracked through his beard. “Helga, get more warriors and find us some oxen and carts. We feast with Frankish wine tonight!”

\--

The wine from Francia was sweeter than anything Elli had drank before. It lingered on her tongue and her lips long after she’d drained her third and fourth horns. In the walls of their new settlement, the vikingr army drank and feasted. Skalds sang songs and told stories around fires, the men and women who had fought today boasted of their victory to the ones who had stayed behind, and Elli found herself wrapped in it all like a babe in a blanket.

It would have felt perfect if not for the fact that Dina wouldn’t speak to her.

Elli knew that she had misspoken, calling Dina a coward for electing to stay behind and fortify the settlement. She knew, logically, that there had to be some portion of warriors that would stay behind and look after their new territory. There had been increased English presence in the area, and it was just a fact of raiding that soon the tables would turn on them, and the invaders would have to defend themselves.

She had tried to catch Dina’s attention. Her heart ached to apologise, to try and explain away her outburst. The little blue bird was tucked into a pouch on her belt, and she periodically reached in and turned the smooth stone over in her fingers.

It would be a good peace offering if Dina would sit still long enough to be cornered.

The wine had made her legs unsteady, and as she wandered from fire to fire, Elli could feel her vision swimming. The Francs made good wine. _Strong_ wine.

 _Vikingr wine_ , Elli thought to herself, giggling a little as she tripped over her own feet.

Through her hazy vision, she caught sight of Dina through the crowd.

Well, she saw a flash of dark hair and a red tunic, which was what she thought she might have seen Dina wearing earlier.

“Dina!” Elli called out, ignoring the looks from the men and women sitting around the fire. She stumbled through, apologising as she stomped on someone’s hand.

A firm hand wrapped itself around Elli’s upper arm and pulled her to the side, between tents and away from the fire. Elli tried to break free, but a familiar voice stopped her struggle.

“Calm down,” Dina snapped, “you’re the one who won’t leave me alone.”

Finally, Dina let her go. They were standing a ways away from the lights of the fires, the din of the celebrations becoming a dull roar in the back of Elli’s ears.

There wasn’t much moonlight, the cloud having moved in to obscure the sky, but Elli could still make out the lines of Dina’s face. She could conjure up an image of Dina from memory in seconds.

“I’m sorry,” the words spilled from her lips like a rushing waterfall, “I was out of line. You are _not_ a coward, and I should have never…it is one of the greatest regrets of my life, Dina. I swear, I’ll never say anything of the sort again.”

Dina laughed. “How much wine have you had, Elli?”

Holding up a hand, Elli tried to count off the number of horns she remembered drinking. “Um, no less than six but possibly…more than seven?”

“By the All-Father, Elli,” Dina said, her voice trembling with laughter, “you will regret that in the morning.” Stepping into Elli’s body, she takes a wine-heavy arm and drapes it over her shoulder. “Come, you should drink some water and lie down.”

Elli leaned on Dina, glad for the support as her legs wobbled beneath her. The wind rustled the bushes as they walked to the edge of the camp to the small stream. Dina helped Elli kneel beside it, a hand on her back as Elli scooped water into her mouth. It was still sun-warm from the long summer day.

“Did you have a good day?” Elli asked, water running down her chin.

“It was long,” Dina answered with a sigh. She sat next to Elli, her feet bare and dipping into the running water. “Jarl Ingimárr had me in her tent all day.”

A hot stab of jealousy shot through Elli’s chest. She sputtered and coughed as the water went down the wrong way. “Why the fuck would she do that?”

“We had to draw up plans for holding this position,” Dina said as her hand rubbed soothing lines up and down Elli’s back. “Our hold here is weak. The King of Mercia will send an army here soon, I’m sure of it. I don’t know that we have enough warriors to hold them off. We certainly don’t have enough supplies to last through a siege.”

Elli sat back on her heels and reached an unsteady hand out to Dina. Her fingertips landed at the exposed skin of her collarbone, the skin there warm and soft to the touch.

“You worry too much,” Elli mumbled, sliding her hand to rest at the back of Dina’s neck. “Did you have _any_ wine tonight? We scored a great victory today.”

Dina gently removed Elli’s hand. “I hear you scaled a cathedral.”

“Well,” Elli pushed herself to her feet, swaying dangerously, “don’t tell anyone this, but I only scaled _half_ a cathedral.”

“It will be our little secret,” Dina said. She stood as well, and Elli lost herself in the gentle reflections of Dina’s eyes. The babbling stream and the chirping insects composed a hypnotic song. A hand pressed into Elli’s waist, and she realised she had been leaning too far towards the water.

“Oh,” Elli tried to right herself, and only succeeded with the help of Dina’s strong arms holding her upright, “thank you.”

“Let’s get to your tent,” Dina said.

The walk to her tent seemed to pass in the blink of an eye. Before she knew it, Elli was falling onto her pile of furs and blankets, Dina kneeling just above her. The sounds of rowdy voices and lilting songs were louder here, even at the edge of the camp.

“I will come see you in the morning,” Dina told her, “for now, rest. You’re going to be miserable no matter what, but at least you’ll have had some sleep.”

She made to leave, but Elli grabbed her by the wrist with a speed that seemed to surprise them both.

“Wait,” she mumbled. Her eyelids felt like stones, weighing down almost unbearably, but Elli summoned the last dregs of consciousness and pushed herself halfway to sitting. Fumbling with her belt, Elli finally undid it and pulled open the pouch that hung there. The little blue bird fell into the palm of her hand. With a mighty effort, she opened Dina’s fingers and placed the bird there, wrapping her hand around Dina’s as it closed over the blue stone.

“What is this?”

Elli brought Dina’s hand to her lips, pressing a lingering kiss to her knuckles. “I saw it and thought of you, Raven-Swift.”

Dina gently took her hand back, and Elli watched as she inspected the little figurine. “It’s beautiful, Elli.”

“Like you,” she sighed, her elbows slipping from where they were holding her up. Her head thumped against the furs. “Fuck. Everything is spinning _very_ quickly.”

“Close your eyes,” Dina instructed. Elli followed the orders without question, groaning when it did nothing to ease the way she felt she was being tossed like a ship in a storm. A warm hand combed some hair off of her forehead. Fingers stayed in her hair for a moment longer, gently scratching at her scalp.

“Nice,” Elli mumbled through a contented hum.

“Go to sleep.” Dina’s voice was much closer now. A flock of birds took off in Elli’s stomach.

A soft pair of lips pressed against her forehead.

Elli tried to reach her hands up to hold Dina there, to bring her lips down to meet her own, to hold her against her chest and breathe her in until they became one whole being, but the wine pinned her arms to the ground, not even allowing her to open her eyes. Her brain scrambled to find something to say, some way to keep Dina here with her, but before it could push through the spinning and the fog of drink, the warmth of Dina’s lips was gone.

She listened to the retreating footsteps and cursed herself and the Frankish wine as she drifted off to sleep.

\--

The first thing Elli did when she awoke, was empty her stomach. She retched until nothing comes out, purple bile staining the green grass at her side. It smelled as foul as it looked and left her head swimming. Her arms shook as she pushed herself to a sitting position, wiping her mouth on her sleeve and squinting against the morning sun.

“And so, the mighty warrior was defeated by Frankish fruit juice.”

Elli held up a hand to block the sun and saw Dina sitting on a crate at her feet. She grinned and bit into an apple, raising an eyebrow as Elli groaned.

“Fuck you,” Elli grumbled, spitting out remnants of her vomit. Dina laughed and tossed her a waterskin. She drank it desperately, washing the bitterness from her mouth.

“Do you remember last night at all?” Dina hopped off the crate crouched before Elli, lifting her chin with a finger.

The blue stone bird hung from her neck at the end of a leather string.

“I do,” Elli smiled. Water ran down her chin and tickled her neck. “I remember that you forgave me.”

“Did I say that?” Dina tapped her own chin in thought. Elli rolled her eyes and pulled her chin away, her heart fluttering as an easy smile took over Dina’s lips. “Come on. We’ll get some food in your belly and get you back in fighting shape.”

“Don’t talk about food,” Elli groaned. She pressed a hand to her stomach, shaking her head as another wave of nausea hit her. Dina laughed and grabbed her by the arms, hauling her to her feet as Elli tried to protest.

“We need you to help set up the defenses,” Dina grunted under the deadweight that Elli draped on her shoulders. Elli choked up some more bile. “Disgusting.”

“When we are done with England,” Elli said, “I will sail to Francia and kill every single one of the Francs who make that Hel wine.”

“First,” Dina grimaced as Elli spat, “you need to stop painting the ground with your sick.”

Elli just groaned again as her head lolled forward. They staggered together through the streets, Dina supporting Elli’s weight. To her credit, Elli tried to keep herself upright, but there was little to be done with the way the world was tilting around her. Her stomach churned with every step, but she clamped her jaw shut and willed whatever was left inside of her to stay put.

They reached the fire near the centre of the camp. It crackled calmly in the morning air, the smell of stew reaching Elli’s nose. Dina sat her down on a log and filled a bowl for her.

“Dina,” she tried to protest, “I cannot.”

“I won’t let you have a day off just because you drank too much,” Dina said. “And Halvard asked me to bring you to our meeting today.”

Elli choked on her spoonful. “Halvard wants me at the meeting?”

“He likes you,” Dina answered with a shrug, “he thinks you will have some insight that neither he, nor Ingimárr, nor I can provide.”

Elli stirred the stew thoughtfully, chewing on the news. Overhead, a flock of birds passed with a chorus of song. “When is this meeting?”

“Mid-day,” Dina said. She sat next to Elli on the log. There was a stiff quality to her posture, her fingers weaving together and unweaving, weaving and unweaving, in an uncharacteristic show of stress.

“Do you not want me there?”

Dina looked at her, brown eyes catching the sun. “I will always want you by my side, Elli.” The hand that landed on Elli’s knee reinforced that, tightening slightly in the fabric of Elli’s trousers. “I only…I want you to be careful with Halvard.”

“Do you not trust him?” Elli leaned in, lowering her voice and casting a look around them. The few people that were lingering nearby seemed engrossed in themselves, paying the two young women no mind.

“I don’t know,” Dina mumbled, and her eyes fell to the flames. She stared ahead unblinking.

Elli put her bowl aside and placed her hand on Dina’s back. She could feel the warmth of her skin through the thin tunic, the subtle ridges of Dina’s spine fitting between the lengths of her fingers. “He frightens you.”

Dina laughed, but there was no amusement in it. Hollow as her eyes, she sighed and shook her head. “If he doesn’t frighten you, then you’re a fool.” She shut her eyes and took a deep breath. The muscles of her back expanded against Elli’s hand.

“Dina,” Elli began, but any other words slipped through her fingers like sand.

“Eat,” Dina said with a tight smile. “I will fetch you some clean clothes. You can’t walk around stained with sick like an infant.”

Elli watched her go, head held high as she vanished into the forest of tents.

\--

The shade from the tent was proving to be the only benefit of the meeting. Elli sat back and watched as Halvard, Jarl Ingimárr, and Dina all talked themselves in circles. A crudely drawn map of their camp and the surrounding area sat on a table in the middle of the tent, being poked and prodded as the three leaders argued endlessly.

“We should not wait for the Saxon army to corner us,” Halvard said, his voice like thunder in the small space, “we are not meek little mice. We take the fight to them, and slaughter them before they can slaughter us!”

“We do not know where they are,” Ingimárr retorted, the same reply she’d been giving since the beginning of the meeting, “but if we bolster our defense, we can hold them off indefinitely. We must dig our heels into the ground we have already gained.”

Elli watched Dina. The youngest of the three leaders, she seemed to be the quietest as well. Everything she had said so far had been short and concise, and Elli could practically see the gears turning under the dark locks of hair.

“You have been awfully quiet, Raven-Swift,” Halvard turned on Dina now, wild-eyed. “What does the young leader of Jarl Thorsteinn’s war-band think?”

“I think,” Dina spoke carefully, “that the longer we stand here and argue, the more time we grant to the Saxons to devise their own strategies.” Elli watched her pace the length of the table, her arms crossed over her chest with one hand at her chin. “We have barely scouted the land south of our camp. I say we send scouting parties, chart the land, learn more about the territory we are claiming.”

“And then what?” Halvard laughed, and Elli narrowed her eyes at him. “You are young, little raven, and so you do not have the experience that _I_ do. Scouting is not a solution; it is a way to pass the time while we sit here like rabbits and wait to be hunted!”

He slammed a knife into the table, piercing the map. Elli jumped at the sudden bang, her hands clenching into fists.

“Then where do you suggest we wage this great battle of yours, Halvard?” Leaning across the table, Dina curled her lip at the giant of a man that shook with heaving breaths. “This is not our land, not _yet_. If we begin a fight too far south, we may find ourselves drawn into any number of unknown terrains. Tell me, Halvard the Dauntless, are you being stupid on purpose, or have you taken too many fists to the head?”

Halvard leaned in, snarling at Dina. Elli stood from her seat and wrapped her fingers around the grip of her axe. The knife stood between the two warriors, waiting for a hand to claim it. Across the tent, even Ingimárr seemed to be ready to intervene, her eyes darting between the other two leaders.

Then Halvard began to laugh.

It sent chills down Elli’s spine.

Dina pulled back, but her posture stayed stiff.

“Fate rewards the bold, Raven-Swift,” Halvard said with his teeth bared in a smile, grabbing his knife and sliding it back into its scabbard, his chest still shaking with laughter. “Send your scouting parties if you must. My men will have no part in it.”

With that, he ducked out from the tent.

“I will find some warriors to join you,” Ingimárr said, giving Dina respectful nod of the head.

“Thank you, Jarl Ingimárr.” Dina accepted the hand Ingimárr offered, clasping her forearm. “You may put as many of my shield-brethren to work on the defenses as you need.”

Then it was just Elli and Dina in the tent.

Dina seemed to deflate, her body posture slouching as she sat back on the table. From where she stood, Elli could see that Dina’s hands were shaking.

She stepped forward and took trembling fingers between her own, holding them tightly.

“So, is that what all the meetings are like?” She asked the question with a crooked smile, waiting for Dina to look up and meet her eyes. When she finally did, Elli’s breath stuttered in her chest at the glimmering wetness in Dina’s gaze.

“Believe it or not,” Dina said, clearing her throat, “that was one of our more civil discussions.”

Elli chuckled. “For whatever my opinion is worth,” she stepped a little closer, letting go of Dina’s hands and gently gripping her shoulders, “I believe you are right.”

“I am always right,” Dina joked. Elli hummed as if to question her. Dina’s hands traced their way up Elli’s arms until they rested in the dips between neck and shoulders, fingers reaching and pressing until Elli’s head dropped forward.

Their foreheads pressed together. Elli felt as if Jörmungandr himself was wrapped around her chest, squeezing her so tightly she could only take inconsequential and shallow breaths. She closed her eyes, her own hands faltering and slipping down Dina’s arms until she found purchase in the bend of her elbows.

“Will you come with me?”

Elli nodded, her mouth dry and tongue too heavy to form a response.

“Thank you,” Dina mumbled on an exhale, her breath warm where it washed over Elli’s lips. She felt Dina’s fingers flex against her neck, thumbs reaching up to the joint of Elli’s jaw, barely there as she brushed the skin.

A loud crash and a series of voices shouting called them back. Elli lifted her head so quickly she felt another wave of nausea hit her. Dina’s hands fell and the two of them locked eyes with flushed cheeks.

“We should leave as soon as we can,” Elli said, the words sticking in the dryness of her mouth.

“I just,” Dina tapped her hands on the table, “I will gather the supplies we’ll need to draw maps.”

“I’ll get food?”

“Yes,” and they both stood there nodding until Dina clapped her hands together. “We will leave at first light tomorrow morning.”

Elli nodded and turned to leave, pushing the tent flap open. The sun burned her eyes, adjusted to the darkness of the tent as they were.

“Elli?”

She paused, looking over her shoulder at Dina, who grinned and tossed her a waterskin. “Stay out of the cask, will you?”

Elli rolled her eyes and threw the waterskin back, shaking her head as she left Dina and her laughter behind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> it's been a hot minute but you can't hold me down forever! a bit of a different post, since this all takes place consecutively as opposed to skipping time, but we gotta set up the next part and, honestly...shit happens haha
> 
> i'm still so in love with this world (that, granted, i am creating, so it's possible there's a slight bias here) and i just want to stay in it forever. which is maybe part of why i keep adding to the chapter count and taking my time with it.
> 
> i hope there's still someone out there reading this - please let me know if you are! 
> 
> thank you, and stay safe and healthy!


	6. Part III - Chapter III

_Summer_

The sun trickled through the leaves and branches of the still forest. Elli winced as it reached her eyes, calling her from light slumber.

She and Dina had been traveling for three days now. They had wound their way through the English countryside on foot, weaving methodical trails as they aimed their paths south. Nature here was wild and untamed; the trees were lush with green, and birds seemed to sing endlessly as they flitted from branch to branch. Even the deer and the rabbits wandered into sight with an uncaring character, unafraid of the two traveling women.

Elli groaned again as the morning birdsong commenced. She grabbed the cloak that covered her body and pulled it over her head.

Beside her, she heard Dina sit up. “Is it morning already?” Her voice was rough with sleep, and it sent a pleasant tingle down to Elli’s toes.

“No,” Elli mumbled, “go back to sleep. It is only a dream.”

Something bounced off the back of her head. She shoved the cloak aside and cracked her eyes open. A roll of bread lied on the ground beside her. Dina was smirking as she tore into her own bread, and Elli snatched the now-dirty food and broke her fast.

“You know,” Elli spoke through a mouthful of bread, “just because the birds rise with the sun, does not mean that we have to.”

“You only say that because you are lazy,” Dina teased her. “Hurry up and eat, Elli.”

Elli watched Dina tidy up their little camp as she ate. It was a short job, for they traveled light in order to gain more ground and pass as nothing more than travelers. Both of them refused to admit to the naked vulnerability they both felt without shields, with only the lightest of weapons concealed under their cloaks.

They began walking as the sun continued to rise. It was a tedious job, charting as they traveled the unknown land. Elli had taken up the task of drawing the map while Dina led them. They paused at regular intervals, Elli carefully measuring out the distance on the rough parchment.

Once the sun was at its peak, they stopped for a break at the bank of a calm river. Their cloaks had been shed some distance back, wrapped and tucked into the packs they carried on their backs. Elli shucked off her shirt and leaned over the river, scooping water to her face and scrubbing the sweat-salt from her skin.

Once she felt clean enough, she sat back on her heels and dried her face with the least sweaty part of her shirt she could find. Her eyes found Dina, sitting at the river’s edge with her pants rolled up, bare feet stuck in the water.

“How are you not dying in this heat?” Elli demanded, the sheen of sweat barely visible on her companion’s brow. “Maybe you are not even Norse, Dina. How else can we explain how little this sweltering summer affects you?” She punctuated her point with a handful of water thrown at Dina.

Dina laughed and dodged the spray. “No need to be jealous. I think you look just fine with a hard day’s sweat on your body.”

Elli hid the heat in her cheeks by pulling her shirt back over her body. It was damp with water and sweat, clinging uncomfortably to the curves of her body. “I think the sun has melted your brain.”

With a mighty heave, Dina lunged and tackled Elli, knocking her to the ground. Elli grunted, twisting in Dina’s grip to try and gain the advantage. They rolled on the grass, laughter mixing with laboured breaths as they tussled.

“The sun lends me strength,” Dina shouted to the sky. Elli dug her elbow into Dina’s ribs, loosening her grip enough to flip their positions. As Elli went to push her to the ground, strong legs wrapped around her waist and Dina threw her with a strong twist of her hips.

They landed in the river, cool water soaking through their clothes. Elli spluttered as her head was submerged briefly. The hand fisted in the collar of her shirt pulled her back up, and Dina’s face came into view. She was laughing, eyes wrinkled at their corners as she threw her head back.

“That was a dirty trick,” Elli gasped, water spraying as she shook her head. Through the shock of the sudden swim, she became all-too aware of Dina straddling her lap, hand tangled in Elli’s shirt, pulling it askew and exposing the sun-burned skin of her chest. Dina’s own skin was a rich tan, not an inch of it kissed pink by the harsh summer skies. Only her lips were the colour of a delicate rose, stretched into a beautiful smile as she laughed at Elli.

“You were complaining about being too hot,” Dina said through her laughter, her free hand combing back the sopping mess of hair that was plastered to Elli’s forehead, “I thought I would help you cool down.”

Elli rolled her eyes, trying to still the furious beating of her heart. The weight of Dina in her lap was doing anything but. Overhead, birds sang the arrival of the afternoon. The forest was still all around them, and Elli took courage in the solitude that it offered.

She placed her hands low on Dina’s waist. The water lapped at her fingers, and she pulled Dina closer. The hand in her hair slid to cradle Elli’s cheek, the fist in her shirt flattening against the flat expanse above Elli’s breast.

“You have always been a thoughtful friend,” Elli murmured, pressing forward against Dina’s body, their foreheads coming together. She breathed deeply through her nose, exhaling slowly. Dina’s fingers flexed against her skin, and Elli heard the hitch in her breath as Dina’s head tilted up to her, their breaths mingling between parted lips.

Their noses bumped together. A whine came from someone’s throat, though it was impossible to tell which. 

“Wait.”

Elli pulled back at Dina’s command, confusion and disappointment flooding her veins with ice.

“What is it?” She asked, noticing the pull of Dina’s brow.

Dina’s finger landed on her lips, quieting her. “I hear something.”

“Dina, we haven’t seen a patrol in two days,” Elli started, but Dina’s hand covered her mouth.

“And that didn’t strike you as odd?” Dina whispered. She sat back, lifting her hips from Elli’s lap. Elli followed her onto the riverbank, gathering their things and kneeling in a stand of rushes. Her fingers wrapped around the hilt of her knife, her ears keen to hear the sounds of footsteps on the forest floor.

She didn’t have to wait long.

Across the river, a group of armed men marched towards them. Dina flattened herself in the muck, pressing hard against Elli’s back until she followed suit. Mud and water seeped into her clothes; the stink of the riverbed soaked into her nostrils.

Dina’s hand was like fire on her back.

The patrol reached the river, their leader calling a halt. Elli watched through the reeds as he sent two men through the shallow waters. Their feet trampled the spot that the two women had just occupied.

One of the men called back to his leader in their foreign tongue. Elli’s fingers tightened around her knife, her other hand digging in to the mud. She looked to Dina, waiting for a signal to attack.

Dina only gave her the smallest shake of her head.

The men poked around the bank at the flattened grass, at the disturbed earth where Elli and Dina had been wrestling not a quarter of an hour before.

They retreated, and Elli felt herself release a long, slow breath.

Dina held her down until the men were out of sight.

“Fuck,” Dina said, rolling onto her back and staring up at the sky. Elli pushed herself up, kneeling and sheathing her blade.

“We should follow them,” Elli said, “find out where they are camped.”

Dina nodded and sat up. Neither of them moved, both staring at each other with unreadable eyes.

“Elli,” Dina said, and she reached out with a muddy hand.

“Come on, Raven-Swift,” Elli cleared her throat and took Dina’s hand, standing and pulling her up with her, “show me how you track a Saxon.”

\--

“They have a small army gathered here,” Dina said, pointing at the marking on the map, “off this branch of the river.”

Elli leaned forward to trace the curve of the river, her chest brushing against Dina’s back as she reached. “There’s a marsh here, just north of the camp. I think we could draw them here, take position above them on these hills,” she tapped the spot, “and easily defeat their forces.”

“How many men?” Ingimárr asked.

“Hard to say,” Dina answered, “by my best guess, upwards of a hundred. No more than two hundred.” With a heavy sigh, she leaned back against Elli. Wordlessly, Elli held her position and took the burden of Dina’s weight. The smell of sweat and dirt mixed together as Elli breathed Dina in, and it took all of her willpower to keep herself from burying her face in the soft skin of Dina’s neck.

After they had seen the small military camp, the two of them had raced back to camp with no rests. It had taken them until just short of dawn to arrive. Dina had insisted they wake Halvard and Ingimárr right away, which left no time to rest even then. Elli felt dead on her feet.

“I agree with Elli,” Halvard said. He was sitting back on a chair, stroking his beard as he listened to their report. “It is best that we take advantage of the terrain, and cut them down where they stand before they can reach us.”

Elli gave him a grateful nod.

“I’m worried that more men are on their way,” Dina said, “or that they’re camped elsewhere. Has anyone else returned?”

“Two other parties returned with no news,” Ingimárr tapped the end of her knife on the map. “No sign of any English presence to the southeast.”

Dina sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose. “We need to act quickly, whatever our decision.”

Elli felt cold as Dina stepped away, gripping the edge of the table to support the sway of her body. Her legs were aching and her head was fuzzy with exhaustion.

“The two of you need rest,” Ingimárr said. Her icy blue eyes were piercing as they looked Elli over, taking in the shadows under her eyes and the likely pallor of her skin. “We can wait another day.”

Neither of the two young women bothered to argue. Halvard waved them out of the tent, and together they stood by the dying embers of the fire. The sun was beginning to rise, the sky making its daily transition from grey to orange.

“Come on,” Dina said. Her fingers wrapped around Elli’s wrist and, too tired to fight, Elli followed after her.

Dina’s shelter was near the middle of the camp, a carefully constructed drapery of cloths over a small wooden frame. Her bed wasn’t much more than anyone else’s; a pile of furs and a few blankets, a feather-stuffed pillow. Elli collapsed onto it beside her, throwing an arm up over her eyes.

“I feel like I could sleep for days,” she mumbled.

Dina shifted beside her. A heavy arm and leg were flung across Elli’s body, the weight of Dina’s head settling above Elli’s breast.

“Shut up,” Dina grumbled, “no more talking. Sleeping only.” Elli opened her mouth to answer, then quickly thought better of it.

Sleep fell upon her like the strike of a hammer.

\--

The night was still as they gathered above the marsh. No breeze rattled the leaves of the trees, no creatures of the forest floor disturbed the earth. The air was hot, uncannily so for the dead of night. Beneath her armour, Elli could feel the sticky coating of sweat on her skin. The paint on her face still felt damp, never truly having dried.

“Where is Halvard?” Dina muttered. “He was supposed to be drawing them here.” She shifted on her feet, flipping her axe in her hand.

Elli adjusted the weight of her shield on her arm. “Breathe. He will come.”

“Or maybe he has decided to chase glory for Valhalla,” Dina said, “maybe he and his men are fighting them now, dying at the end of English swords.” The whites of her eyes looked brilliant against the dark of her face paint.

“Dina,” Elli hooked her axe in her belt and placed a hand on the other woman’s back, “breathe.”

She felt the heavy rise and fall of Dina’s ribs as she followed Elli’s advice. Behind them, Elli could hear the restless murmurs of the gathered army.

“I have a terrible feeling about this, Elli,” Dina mumbled. “I feel this darkness hanging over us, over this battle. We should not be fighting tonight.”

Elli frowned and looked at her. The sharp line of Dina’s jaw and the angle of her nose were highlighted by the faint moonlight.

“Why did you not speak out earlier?” Elli asked.

Dina shook her head. “It was only a dream.”

“What?” Elli stepped forward, turning to stand in front of Dina and gripping her shoulder with her free hand. “What dream?”

Something flashed through Dina’s eyes as she opened her mouth to speak.

A horn sounded before any words could leave her lips. She stepped back from Elli’s grasp, sidestepping her and raising her axe.

“Archers!”

Elli watched the lines of men and women knock and draw. Dina dropped her arm and the arrows flew. Below them at the mouth of the marsh, the English soldiers were struck down suddenly, their cries of terror reaching the army.

“Again!”

The men below struggled in the soft and wet earth, sinking as England tried to swallow them whole.

“With me!” Elli shouted, and the contingent of warriors she had chosen earlier that day fell into step behind her. They slid down the hill at the English army’s flank, and descended upon them like ravenous wolves. Well-rested and strong, their legs carried them through the marsh like wind.

Her shield slammed against the face of an Englishman, the dagger in her other hand driving between his ribs. He fell back into the murky waters, blood seeping and staining those very waters.

The next man died with Elli’s knife in his throat.

The third left her with a bloody gash on her cheek.

Halvard appeared across the marsh, swinging his hammer like Thor himself. The little resistance that the English army offered was easily swept away. Bodies floated in the marsh, the water shining a dark and marbled red under the moon.

“Elli,” Halvard said as he approached, pushing a body aside, “well fought. You show a great aptitude for battle strategy.” He bent and dipped his hammer in the water, rubbing it clean of the blood that stained the metal head.

“Thank you,” Elli said, wiping the blade of her knife on her sleeve.

Halvard pointed at the cut on her cheek. “Looks like you were not cunning enough to escape that.” He laughed then, clapping her on the shoulder and nearly knocking her into the water.

Before she could answer, a short horn blast sounded from the hills. She whipped her head around to look back at Dina’s position. Suddenly, the sounds of battle carried down the sloped earth, and Elli felt the sharp pang of fear in her chest.

“Dina.”

She struggled against the marsh as she tried to run. It tried to suck her in, to hold her down, but Elli fought it.

“Vikingr, to me!” Her voice felt far away, like it was someone else speaking through her. The singular focus narrowed her vision, and all she could think of was that Dina was on that hill, that somehow, despite the plan that had felt so perfect, they had missed something.

That _Elli_ had missed something.

Finally, she freed herself from the marsh and sprinted up the hill. Her legs felt weak from her fight against the earth, but she pushed onwards.

The battle was raging when she reached it. The clanging of metal on metal, the cries and gasps of warriors as they fought and died; Elli drank it in and charged.

She cut her enemies down with a blind rage. Blood dripped down her face and into her mouth, the taste of iron driving her on. Each strike of her axe against flesh was as satisfying as the last, but her eyes darted every which way, searching for the one person she cared about.

Finally, _finally_ , she found her.

Dina fought with a speed and grace that rivaled the Valkyries themselves. Her twin axes whirled with the wind, leaving only death in their wake. Her hair whipped behind her as she spun and ducked.

There were too many men closing in on her.

Elli shoved her way through the crowd, heart pounding in her ears as she scrambled to reach her.

The blade of her axe ripped open the back of an Englishman. She shoved him away, leaping over the body to tackle a man whose arm sword was poised to strike at Dina. They fell to the earth, Elli shouting as she slammed his face into the dirt over and over until he still beneath her.

She lifted her shield in time to block a blow from another sword. Her fingers let her axe fall, grabbing the knife at her hip and driving it into the leg of her attacker until he collapsed beside her.

Blood poured from the slit in his throat.

Elli staggered to her feet and gathered her axe.

“Good timing!” Dina yelled, ripping her axes from the neck of a tall man.

Elli backed up until they bumped into each other, twirling her axe as she looked at the circle of soldiers that closed around them.

“Where did they come from?” Elli asked, slamming her axe against her shield in a steady rhythm.

“If I knew, they wouldn’t have arrived at all.”

Elli snorted and spat some blood from her mouth. “So much for it only being a dream.”

“If this is the day we are to die,” Dina said, “I am glad it’s with you by my side.”

“No,” Elli shook her head, “I don’t feel the Valkyries at my neck tonight. They do not fly for us, Raven-Swift.”

Dina laughed and Elli let the sound comfort her and wrap around her like a blanket.

“Keep your shield up,” Dina said, “don’t close your eyes.”

“Is now the time for you to be teaching me?”

Finally, an impatient soldier surged forward. Elli caught his sword in the hook of her axe and slammed her forehead into his nose. He staggered back with blood pouring down his face, and Elli took two steps forward to run her blade across his neck.

“Come on!” She yelled at the remaining Englishmen. They shook in their boots, and Elli bared her teeth. Behind her, she heard the sounds of fighting. “Cowards! All of you!”

“Stop playing with your food,” Dina called out over her shoulder as she slammed a man to the ground, crushing his throat beneath her boot.

“But it’s so much fun,” Elli answered. With a sigh, she twirled her axe and lunged.

\--

As the sun rose, Elli leaned back against the trunk of a tree and slid to the ground. Every one of her limbs felt like stone, and she tossed her shield aside. She loosened the clasps of her armour, pulling until it fell from her body to the ground.

Beside her, Dina was lying on her back and staring up at the sky.

“What did we miss?” She mumbled.

Elli shrugged and lifted the bottom of her shirt. It was soaked in sweat, but she scrubbed at the blood on her face with it anyway. “You said it before. This is their land. We shouldn’t be too surprised that they found an advantage.”

Dina huffed and stretched her arms above her head. She had cast off her armour a while ago while they were still taking stock of the dead and wounded. Her shirt rode up now, and Elli stared at the strip of skin that was exposed above the waist of her pants.

“We have to be better,” Dina said. Elli sighed, leaning over and grabbing the waterskin that was nestled into Dina’s side. She lifted it to her lips and took a long drink. Some extra was poured into the palm of her hand, and she wiped at her face until it felt clean of blood. The cut in her cheek throbbed lightly, but a quick poultice from one of the healers had been applied and would keep out infection.

“Have you seen Halvard?” Elli asked.

“I haven’t seen him since we loosed our arrows,” Dina said. “I was busy.”

Elli frowned. Now that she thought on it, she wasn’t so sure that she had seen him since their brief interaction in the marsh, either. He was hard to miss on the battlefield; surely, she would have noticed if he hadn’t followed her to Dina’s aid?

“Did you notice if he fought with us on the hill?”

Dina groaned and pushed herself up on her elbows. “Like I said, Elli, I was paying no mind to what Halvard was doing.”

The thoughts that swam through Elli’s mind then felt too ridiculous to voice. Her head felt heavy with the hangover of battle-lust, so she shook them from her mind and offered Dina a tentative smile.

“You’re welcome, by the way,” she said, “for saving your life.”

Dina laughed and flopped back onto the ground, tucking her hands behind her head. “I would have handled them just fine.”

“But instead, I saved you,” Elli said, and she got to her knees and shuffled over to Dina, “because I am a hero.”

“Are you, now?” Dina’s lips twisted into a smirk. “Not even a full season’s raiding under your belt, and you think you are worthy of Valhalla?”

Elli lied down beside her, propped up on her side with her head in her hand. “Do you not think so?”

Dina turned her head to look at her, and Elli felt the breath be knocked from her chest at the way the sun lit up Dina’s eyes. There were still a few flecks of blood on her tanned skin that mixed in with the freckles across her nose. From any further away, they would be mistaken as such, but Elli was barely a thumb’s width from Dina now.

Her heartbeat was heavy in her stomach.

“England should be terrified of you,” Dina said, soft and low.

Elli held her breath as Dina sat up and cupped the back of her neck. Her fingers were hot and sticky with sweat, and they pulled Elli down, down until there was the soft meeting of lips.

It felt like falling.

Or, it felt like being caught.

No, it felt like…like flying. Like she had been falling for years, and the ground kept rising towards her, waiting to flatten her on impact, but instead she had been given wings and the wind had caught beneath them and Elli was skimming that very ground now, laughing and mocking its loss.

When Dina pulled back, Elli realised she had been too frozen to kiss her back.

So she pushed Dina back against the earth and leaned over her, and this time, as their lips found each other again, Elli poured every ounce of herself into Dina.

Dina’s lips tasted like salt and iron, slightly chapped. Elli hummed as she felt the pressure of a warm tongue against her own lips, and she parted them for Dina to press her tongue into the wet heat of her mouth.

A strong hand slipped under her shirt and dug into her skin until Elli understood and tossed her leg over Dina’s hips, her hands planted on either side of her head as she lowered her body against the one below her.

That same hand skimmed the slick skin of her back, her sides, finally pressing up against her abdomen.

Elli broke their kiss, breaths leaving her in shallow pants.

Below her, Dina’s lips were red and her eyes fluttered open slowly. She trailed her fingers from the back of Elli’s neck along her jaw, the tips of her fingers painting a trail over the flesh of Elli’s lips.

“Was that alright?” Elli asked, her voice quiet and rough as she turned her head to place a kiss in the palm of Dina’s hand.

“I’ve had better,” Dina answered. Her own voice was breathless, and Elli rolled her eyes. Dina grinned, grabbing Elli’s chin and dragging her back down. “Better keep trying.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Little bit of violence, little bit of English countryside, and a good deal of sexual tension and some resolution of said tension! This one really just wrote itself, so who was I to try and stop it?
> 
> It was so heartening to see that there are still people out here reading this! You guys are truly my heroes for sticking with me, I can't even express how happy it makes me to hear from you. 
> 
> Stay safe out there, friends!

**Author's Note:**

> Viking time! Trying some new things, and hoping for the best. This will be around three parts of equal length (apparently now some parts in chapters haha), theoretically. Thank you for your support!


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